


Gold to Dust

by wilddragonflying



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Captain America: The First Avenger, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Infinity Gems, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, The Avengers (2012) Spoilers, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2014-11-06
Packaged: 2018-02-23 00:54:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 41,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2527991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilddragonflying/pseuds/wilddragonflying
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While searching for Bucky after the events of The Winter Soldier, Steve and Sam encounter a strange little stone that's going to help Steve turn history on its head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So this was supposed to be my NaNoWriMo project for Nov 2014, except... Well, I got excited and started early. I've divided this up into a few parts: Prologue, The First Avenger, The Avengers, The Winter Soldier, Infinity Gem, and (possibly) Epilogue.

"When do we start?”

Steve hadn't expected much after the fall of SHIELD; everything was in chaos, it was only to be expected that he wouldn't be able to get much of a lead on anything concerning Bucky for the first while. Still, that didn't keep him from becoming more and more anxious the more time went by without a single word, a single paper, sighting, rumor, _breath_ of Buck's whereabouts. Sam tried to reason with Steve, and, _logically_ , the supersoldier understood his friend's reasoning: Bucky was trained to be a master assassin. He'd survived for seventy years of irregular missions because of that training. If he didn't want to be found, then he wouldn't be, simple as that. But again, that was the logical part of Steve. The part of Steve that had gone through what he'd thought was Bucky's death, the part of him that had as good as died with Bucky, _that_ part was pacing constantly, huffing and puffing and raring to go, needing to find Bucky, to get him back, to know that he was just _alive_ , that Steve hadn't hallucinated those encounters. Honestly, if Sam hadn't as good as forced Steve to move in with him, the blond was approximately ninety-five percent certain that he would have started looking already, taking a shot in the dark and traveling God-only-knew-where in the most-likely vain hope of stumbling across the Winter Soldier's trail.

Their first clue, as it turned out, came from Fury. Approximately six months since Fury's "death" and the events of D.C., the former Director sent Sam and Steve a message.

In typical Fury fashion, it was concise and difficult to interpret, but after a lot of arguing and head-scratching(and more than a few flung papers and pens, one of which was still embedded in the ceiling of Sam's kitchen), they eventually managed to decipher the message.

Fury didn't say much, but then again, he didn't need to. In the course of his own mission in Europe, Fury had found information detailing an old, experimental Hydra base, located in South America. SHIELD had found it once-- it had contained an old Hydra weapon that had been discontinued during the Second World War for unknown reasons, and confiscated by SHIELD about a year ago. Fury's new information, however, suggested that there was more than just the weapon that had been developed inside of the temple. Allegedly, there had been tests carried out on the locals, who suffered an unusually high rate of early-onset Alzheimer's near the end of the war and for about a decade afterwards.

Fury gave the coordinates for the temple, and Sam and Steve set off.

************

It was easy to find the temple, and when they did, Sam and Steve couldn't help but give each other looks. _This_ was the location of the secret Hydra base? This crumbling, vine-covered pyramid housed the base that would probably become the birthplace-- so to speak-- of the Winter Soldier; it didn't seem possible.

"Well, guess we better get started," Steve said, pulling his shield from his back and sliding his arm into the straps.

Sam frowned, though he was also double-checking his own weapons. "You sure? Don't want to wait up for Natasha? We could use another person."

Steve's own frown echoed Sam's. "We probably should. But--"

"But you want to find Bucky, I know. What makes you so sure that this will give you the information you need?" Sam was doing that thing again, the one where he watched Steve intently with a certain emotion-- Steve had never been able to figure out what it was. But that look, Sam only used it when he wanted Steve to answer honestly, in a way that he hardly ever did. Not that he ever _lied_ , but he rarely forced himself to be honest with himself and then _share_ that honesty with someone else.

Steve sighed, trying to cobble together the words he needed. "I don't," he answered finally. "But I am sick and tired of waiting around. I've done enough of that, in the ice, and unknowingly, after I was thawed. I don't-- I can't. I don't want to take any longer than I have to. Whatever ends up happening, I need to see Bucky again. I need him back."

Sam was quiet for a moment, most likely sorting through and digesting Steve's words before attempting to reply. When he finally opened his mouth, Steve could not have predicted what came out. "You're in love with him." It wasn't a question, just a quiet statement of the truth.

Steve didn't answer immediately. "Yes," he said, admitting out loud what he’d felt for most of his life for only the second time ever to someone who wasn’t Bucky. "I do."

Sam didn't seem surprised by Steve's use of the present tense, only nodding slowly. "I always wondered, and so did a lot of people. There have been a lot of debates about whether or not you and Barnes were lovers."

"We were," Steve confirmed. "Started after we moved in together, before the war. By then, I’d been in love with him for years, and he felt the same. We just kinda… quit hiding it, when it was just the two of us. He still went out on dates, still took me out with him on double dates, but none of the girls ever suspected anything, I think. Buck always was a good actor; I have a terrible poker face."

Sam nodded. “All right then,” he said, sliding one pistol back into its pocket before cocking the other. “Well, let’s go: Nat can catch up.”

Steve nodded, leading the way into the temple, smiling to himself; he was glad that Sam and Natasha had hit it off the way that they had. He could certainly see a romance blooming sometime in the future, if Nat allowed it. That would be the deciding factor, Steve thought-- Sam had shown himself to be persistent, but he knew that Sam would respect Natasha if she insisted that she didn’t want a relationship. _But,_ Steve thought with a wry grin, _Sam just might be able to change her mind._

************

The inside of the temple was dank and dusty, filled with skittering insects and rodents. The sunlight only took them so far, but once they made it past the place that SHIELD had recovered the old weapon from, it turned out that they didn’t need flashlights for very long: Roughly a hundred steps down the tunnel behind the wreckage of the wall that had held the weapon, there was an echoing grinding, groaning noise, followed by something Steve only recognized because Sam had made him sit down and watch a lot of movies during the past six months when he’d been in the gym for more than four hours at a time. It was the sound of lights clicking on-- a sound that Steve had always thought exaggerated, but it turned out that in a series of twisting tunnels, with the lights powered by Hydra technology, it was extraordinarily accurate. He and Sam froze, but in the new light there was nothing to indicate what had triggered it; the floor and walls seemed normal for an ancient temple. The two exchanged glances, and then cautiously continued forward, ready for a fight.

A fight that never came, as it turned out-- the tunnels were covered in layers of dust that betrayed the fact that this base had seemingly been abandoned for years, but neither Sam nor Steve were willing to take the appearance for granted. Steve didn’t bother keeping track of how long they followed the tunnels, but he guessed it had been quite some time-- a few hours, at least-- by the time the stone tunnels turned to metal. He and Sam stopped when the stone ended and the metal began-- it wasn’t subtle, the differing materials making a stark contrast in the artificial light. The soldiers continued down the path-- it had never deviated, nor branched. There was only one path to follow, and until it ran out, they would continue on. Steve would, at least-- he wouldn’t hold Sam to the same obligations to which he held himself. Knowing the other man, however, Sam would probably follow, regardless. He was stubbornly loyal that way.

Steve was the one who eventually spotted the first irregularity in the military-strict construction. He slowed his walk until he and Sam were within fifty feet of what appeared to be a door-- except it didn’t really have a handle, just a number pad, covered in dust.

”What do you think is behind that?” Sam asked, his voice hushed but echoing down the hall regardless.

Steve shrugged, approaching to study the number pad more closely. “Probably nothing good, considering this is a Hydra base.”

”D’you think that maybe whatever’s behind there is the reason this place was abandoned? I mean, we haven’t exactly been met with a welcoming party, Steve.”

"It's possible," Steve allowed, stepping closer to the pad. "Looks like this was accessed before, though," he continued, gesturing to the keypad. On four of the numbers, there was a slight depression in the dust.

Sam stepped up next to Steve and peered at the keypad, brow furrowed. "No way of knowing what the combination is," he said. "We don't know how many numbers in the code, and even if there's only four, there's at least sixteen combinations, probably more."

"Yeah," Steve agreed absently-- his mind was already racing, trying to crack the code. The four numbers were one, two, five, and nine; Steve frowned. "It can't be that easy," he said, almost to himself.

"What're you talking-- Steve. Don't, don't touch it, man," Sam said, reaching for Steve's hand, but he wasn't quite quick enough on the uptake-- Steve punched in 1-9-4-5, the year that Bucky fell. The year Buck would begin his training as the Winter Soldier.

Nothing happened for a moment, and then gears long-unused shrieked in protest as they were made to raise the door before the two men. Both Steve and Sam covered their ears, screwing their eyes shut as they tried to block out the sound; after a few moments, the sound stopped, and they looked up cautiously.

Before them was a new opening, leading into a short hall that opened into a room. There was a soft orange glow coming from one side of the room, but there wasn't much else to be seen inside of the room, despite the same artificial lights illuminating the room that lit up the hallway Sam and Steve were currently standing in.

The two men exchanged looks, and then Steve held his shield up in a defensive gesture before leading the way into the room.

They cleared the room quickly and easily-- there was no one there, and nothing except for a small orange stone that was situated atop a small pedestal off to one side.

"This is some Indiana Jones shit right here," Sam muttered, and Steve couldn't help but chuckle.

"Just need to trade in the shield for a whip," he agreed, and then approached the stone. As he did so, Steve became aware of a soft murmuring, and he paused, tilting his head. "You hear that?"

Sam shook his head, still standing a few feet away from Steve and the stone. "Nothing here but us, Cap."

Steve hummed softly, backing up beside Sam and tilting his head again. "Huh. Now it's gone."

"What's gone?

"The murmuring. Stay here." Steve approached the stone again, leaving Sam behind him muttering something about stubborn, cocky supersoldiers which he consequentially ignored. As Steve drew closer to the stone, the murmuring grew in volume, until he could almost make out the words-- they were jumbled together, but the more he concentrated, the clearer they became. After a few moment's concentration, Steve's eyes widened in realization. The voices were ones he hadn't heard in years-- decades actually, though it only felt like one to him-- old Mrs. Matthews, thanking him for helping her repaint her plant pots, his mother before she died, clucking her tongue over something he and Bucky had done that ended with both of them bruised and cut, Bucky telling him that he didn't have to do everything alone... 

"What the hell?" Steve exclaimed, leaning back-- he hadn't even realized that he had been leaning forward, almost pressing his ear to the stone. "You sure you can't hear that? C'mere, Sam."

The other man looked hesitant, but complied, coming to stand next to Steve. The closer he got to the stone, the more astonished he looked; Steve got the feeling that it was the same expression he'd been sporting only a few moments before. "I hear 'em," Sam confirmed before Steve could say anything. "My ma, sister, her boyfriend... Hell, even my grandpa. What the hell is this, Steve?" Sam looked to him, bewilderment written clear on his face, and Steve was helpless to do anything but shrug.

"It's not the Tesseract, it never... Spoke, I guess. I have no clue what this could--" Steve cut himself off when he heard a scream from the stone; if the look on Sam's face was anything to go by, he'd heard it as well.

Now, the stone was projecting something, something that seemed... Steve started when he realized why the sounds coming from the stone seemed familiar: They were; the stone was broadcasting the sounds from the day Steve had become Captain America, Erskine's only success.

Glancing to the side, Steve caught Sam's eye. "You hear it now?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Real spooky-- I'm not so sure we should be hanging around this stone, Cap."

"Maybe," Steve said, but he was distracted by the sounds coming from the stone-- now, Steve could hear Howard Stark, talking about how the flying car was only a few short years away, and Steve's heart clenched in his chest. Steve imagined this was how a panic attack felt-- that day had been the last time Steve had seen Bucky being, well... The Bucky he knew-- the confident ladies' man, his best friend looking after his welfare by kicking a bully's ass. The next time Steve would see Bucky would be when he rescued him from the Hydra base, almost a year later.

Without thinking, Steve reached out to touch the stone.


	2. The First Avenger

Steve woke to a pounding on the door; groaning, he rolled over just enough to yell, “What?” in the direction of the commotion.

”Get your ass up, Rogers,” a voice shouted back. “You got to get to work sometime today, remember? Papers won’t deliver themselves!”

Steve’s breath caught in his throat-- that was _Bucky’s_ voice. But what was he--

Opening his eyes, Steve gasped. This wasn’t a hotel room, or even his room back at Sam’s place: This was his room from 1943, in Brooklyn, in the apartment that he’d shared with Bucky. But how--

”Rogers! You up yet? I’m coming in there next time!” Bucky’s voice was back, and he was rapidly going from amused to irritated, judging by the tone of his voice.

”Yeah, I’m up!” Steve called, heading off the storm he knew would come if he didn’t. “Give me a second!”

”Counting!” Bucky yelled, and then Steve could hear his footsteps retreating.

The blond took a deep breath, and then swung himself out of bed. He stumbled, and almost sent himself crashing to the floor. He was used to his body taking about around double the space it had before the serum, but now… Now, it seemed, he was back to that skinny, defective body.

Looking around, Steve noticed that his surroundings were dull, lacking the color he had grown used to in the years since Erskine’s experiment. A glance down revealed a small body, bony and sharp. Steve felt his shoulders sag-- he’d grown to like that new body quite a bit.

Bucky’s voice telling him that breakfast was ready and waiting quickly squashed that disappointment, though-- Steve, somehow, was back in 1943. Either that or he was having an extremely realistic dream. A new determination filling him, Steve got dressed before leaving the bedroom that he and Bucky shared.

The apartment was just the way he remembered it-- which it would be, of course, if he had managed to travel back in time. He would have to think about how he’d managed that; odds were, that strange orange stone was to blame.

Seeing Bucky for the first time in months-- and seeing the Buck he’d known before the war for the first time in years-- was almost enough to bring Steve to his knees.

”Mornin’,” Bucky said from behind his copy of yesterday’s paper. Steve could barely hear him munching on an apple thanks to his partial deafness.

”Mornin’ yourself, Buck,” Steve managed to rasp out, instinct guiding him to the icebox to grab his own usual breakfast and liver concentrate to treat his pernicious anaemia.

Bucky glanced up, a frown wrinkling his brow. “How we doin’ on that? Need me to pick up some more?” he asked.

Steve checked the supply, and then shook his head. “Nah, we’re good for a day or two yet,” he answered.

He quickly prepared the concentrate before joining Bucky at the table. “Got any plans?” Bucky asked casually, glancing up at Steve. Steve was too busy staring at Bucky to answer right away; he wanted to take in every detail immediately. The blond was only made aware of the fact that Buck had even asked him a question when the brunet quirked a brow at him before reaching over to flick Steve’s ear affectionately. “Rogers, come in, Rogers,” he teased lightly, imitating the film impersonations of airplane radio.

“Oh, sorry,” Steve muttered, flushing slightly and rubbing at his ear.. He concentrated, trying to remember what he had had planned for this day, almost seventy-one years ago. “Just delivering papers, and helping Mrs. McDodge down the hall,” he said after a moment; weirdly, it hadn’t been too hard to remember. Steve, however, wasn’t a scientist, so he couldn’t even begin to venture any guesses as to why.

”Sounds nice,” Buck said, flipping a page. “I’ve got to go to the docks-- they asked me to come in and cover for a boy who got his hand caught in a pulley-- but I’ll catch up with you after, alright?”

Steve grinned, though he already knew how this day was going to play out. “Sure, Buck; sounds like a plan,” he agreed.

************

His enlistment form had been stamped 4F once again, he’d been beaten up in an alley and saved by Bucky, and now they were back at the expo and Steve was encouraging Bucky to go on and take the two girls dancing. Bucky eventually gave in, just as he had the first time, and when the brunet moved in for a hug, Steve held on as tightly as he could in this weaker body; who knew when Steve would see Bucky again-- _if_ he did at all? What if something went wrong, and he wasn’t selected for Erskine’s serum? Steve didn’t think he or Buck would survive that.

The scene in the enlistment office played out pretty much the same-- a nurse came in, whispered in the doctor’s ear, and then Steve was left alone until Erskine came through the curtain partition. “So,” the scientist started, opening the folder in his hands. “You want to go overseas? Kill some Nazis?”

It took Steve an extra second to reply-- he had become quite fond of Erskine, even in the short time they’d known each other, and his death shortly after the success of his experiment had truly hurt. “Excuse me?” he managed to get out, hoping he struck just the right mix of incredulous and apprehensive.

”Dr. Abraham Erskine. I represent the Strategic Scientific Reserve,” Erskine announced, stepping forward with a hand outstretched.

Steve got to his feet, shaking the doctor’s hand. “Steve Rogers,” he returned. After a moment, he remembered that he’d asked another question the first time he’d lived through this encounter. “Where are you from?”

Erskine glanced up. “Queens. Before that, Germany.” Erskine looked to his papers before returning his gaze to Steve. “This troubles you?” Steve shook his head, murmuring a negative answer. Erskine hummed, and then continued, “Where are _you_ from, Mr. Rogers? Hm? Is it… New Haven? Or Parlamos? Five exams in five different cities.”

”That might not be the right file--”

”No, it’s not the exams I’m interested in,” Erskine explained. “It’s the five tries. But you didn’t answer my question,” he added, flipping the folder closed and moving to stand in front of Steve once again. “Do you want to kill Nazis?”

Steve couldn’t help but ask, “Is this a test?”, the same as he had the first time.

Erskine gave a small nod. “Yes.”

Steve took a deep breath, trying to remember what, exactly, he’d answered. “I don’t want to kill anyone--” his chest clenched at the semi-lie; he didn’t _want_ to kill anyone, but he would if it meant saving Bucky “-- I don’t like bullies, I don’t care where they’re from.” That part, at least, was all truth.

Erskine nodding in acceptance and understanding. “Well, there are already so many big men fighting this war, maybe what we need now is the little guy, hm? I can offer you a chance-- but only a chance.”

Steve grabbed his coat and followed the doctor out of the examination room. “I’ll take it,” he said, perhaps a bit more desperately than he had the first time. But who could blame him? He was being offered another chance to become Captain America-- and a chance to save his best friend and the man he was in love with.

Erskine adjusted his glasses and reached for a stamp. “So, where is the little guy from, actually?” he asked, looking to Steve meaningfully.

”Brooklyn,” Steve supplied, unable to keep the small grin off of his face. 

Erskine stamped the form and handed it to Steve, who flipped it open immediately. ”Congratulations, Soldier.”

Steve stared at the stamped IA, and let out a breath of relief. That was the hardest part down, he thought-- getting accepted into the program. Now he just had to prove, once again, that he was the best candidate for becoming the first-- and only-- experiment.

************

It was a kick to the gut, seeing Peggy again. All through training, Steve couldn’t keep himself from staring at Peggy-- he may be here to save Bucky, but God, Steve’s admiration for Agent Carter in the 1940’s only grew, knowing what he did about what she would go on to do. Founding SHIELD, saving lives-- Agent Peggy Carter would become one of the most important women of history, even if the world wouldn’t know it for decades, even if she wouldn’t see herself that way.

It only made Steve work harder to impress her, to convince both her and Colonel Phillips that he would be the right choice for Erskine’s project. Steve got the feeling that he didn’t succeed so much with Colonel Phillips-- but he hadn’t really expected to. Steve knew what he looked like during training in Camp Lehigh, and it was nothing impressive. Nothing about Steve’s pre-serum body would suggest that he would grow over a foot, put on more than one hundred pounds of muscle, and become one of the strongest men alive. But it would-- Steve would make sure of that. He had a mission, and he wasn’t about to jeopardize it.

So, asides from working even harder in training, Steve let things happen the same way that they had the first time he’d lived through these months. It paid off; he found himself riding in the car with Peggy, pointing out alleys and parking lots he’d been beat up in, still fumbling over his words when he complimented her(that, at least, he didn’t have to consciously not think about; Steve knew that in a few decades, the world would come up with a term for people like him, people attracted to genders both the same as and different from their own. He knew that he was bisexual, but knowing that didn’t make him any more competent at talking with women in a capacity that didn’t involve a mission.), and suppressing impatience and-- a bit surprisingly-- nerves. Just because Steve knew what had happened the last time he’d gone into Stark’s machine pumped full of Erskine’s serum didn’t mean that it would happen the same this time.

Steve found himself really worrying about this for the first time since touching the gem in the temple; what if something had changed? What if something went wrong, and Steve _never_ got the chance to go overseas, to save Buck from the Hydra base in the first place? What if Buck became the Winter Soldier years ahead of schedule?

Steve couldn’t let that happen.

Finally, though, they pulled up to the curb outside of the same antique store that Steve remembered. “This way,” Peggy instructed, heading for the door.

This time, Steve didn’t fail to notice the guards standing outside of the shop. “What are we doin’ here?” he asked, though he already knew the answer-- or lack thereof-- that Peggy would give.

And indeed, Peggy delivered: “Follow me.”

Inside the antique store was an elderly lady; Steve remembered that she didn’t have long to live, that she would be killed by the escaping Hydra agent shortly after Steve went through the Vita-Ray machine.

The lady spoke first. “Wonderful weather this morning, isn’t it?”

”Yes,” Peggy replied before tacking on: “but I always carry an umbrella.” This, Steve now realized, was quite obviously a code: No sign of trouble yet, but be sharp.

This time around, Steve was able to contain a bit of his wonder at the facility that Peggy led him through, but not much; he was still in awe of the fact that there was an entire lab hiding behind an antiques shop. How had the SSR managed that, he wondered.

Once again, all activity in the actual lab stopped when Peggy and Steve entered. Steve took a deep breath before following Peggy down the steps and onto the actual floor. The next several minutes would determine the rest of Steve’s life.

Erskine greeted Steve with a handshake, and Steve was ready for the following camera flash, although it still blinded him momentarily-- he remembered that in the intervening years, no one would be inclined or able to diminish camera flashes. Press conferences always gave him a headache.

Erskine scolded the photographer, who moved away with an indignant huff, before turning back to Steve. “Are you ready?” Steve nodded, albeit a bit shakily; his nerves were back in full force, just as bad as they had been the first time he’d done this. “Good,” Erskine replied. “Take off your shirt, hat, and tie.” Steve complied as Erskine moved away to check on some of his instruments, handing the discarded clothing to a nearby lab assistant.

Once the requested clothing was gone, Steve climbed into the machine, squirming a bit to get himself comfortable.

“Comfortable?”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Bit big,” he said dryly, exchanging a glance with Erskine, who smiled before turning to address someone else.

”Mr. Stark, how are your levels?”

”Levels at one-hundred percent,” Howard answered; Steve couldn’t help the way his breathing hitched at the sight of the man who would become Iron Man’s father. Steve had ended up good friends with Howard, and he still had a hard time reconciling the man Tony described with the man he’d known. “We may dim half the lights in Brooklyn, but we are ready. As we’ll ever be.”

Steve couldn’t help but smile when Erskine not-so-subtly suggested that Peggy get off of the platform and move to the observation room upstairs. He sent her a reassuring smile as she left; or at least, as reassuring a smile as he could manage, given the circumstances and the nervousness he was still feeling. Steve listened to Erskine’s explanation of what was going to happen next with half an ear, too busy concentrating on his breathing. First came the shot of penicillin, and then the really fun stuff: Being injected with the serum itself. Steve barely registered the machine moving through the burning of his muscles, but he managed to reassure Erskine that he was all right when the scientist inquired.

He didn’t realize that Stark had turned on the machine at first; the only indication was that the burning in his muscles from the injections started to spread all through his body, borne on his blood. Just like before, he couldn’t stop the screams that tore themselves from his throat as his body responded to the serum, growing and strengthening-- he didn’t even realize that he was actually screaming until there were shouts for the machine to be shut off.

Panic surged through Steve-- if the procedure was stopped, he’d never get the chance to see and rescue Bucky. He couldn’t let that happen. “No!” he shouted, desperate. “I can do this!” And he could, he knew; he’d already done this once before, after all. There was a moment of silence, and then the burning continued to move through his body, his muscles tearing and repairing themselves, bones enlarging, heart and lungs healing, but even through all of the combined pain, Steve made himself stay quiet.

After what seemed like eons, the pain ebbed and eventually stopped; a moment later, the machine opened. Steve was panting from the pain, and he was a bit dazed; he didn’t even realize that the experiment had been a success until Erskine and Stark were helping him down and out of the machine and he’d opened his eyes to a world of colors that made sense once again.

Erskine and Stark were congratulating each other as they supported Steve, but the supersoldier only had eyes for Peggy at the moment-- Steve did love her, even after all these years. It may not be the same love as he’d felt for Bucky, not all-consuming, but that didn’t change the fact that he _did_ love her. “How do you feel?” Peggy asked, clearly concerned.

_Elated, hopeful, determined, desperate, impatient._ “Taller,” Steve answered breathlessly.

************

The explosion from the observation room set off the same chain of events it had the last time; despite his best efforts, Steve was unable to stop the Hydra agent before he cracked the cyanide pill hidden in his mouth. When he returned to the SSR, Phillips once again dismissed him, and Steve had to remind himself that for everyone else, this was the first time they’d lived through this time period. They had no clue what Steve would go on to do, what he would face and overcome. Still, Steve was stuck accepting Senator Brandt’s offer-- it was the only way he knew _for sure_ would get him to Italy. To Bucky. That didn’t mean that Steve enjoyed it any more; he always did hate being the center of attention, but he sucked it up-- this _was_ for a good cause, and not just Steve’s own personal one; the US Army could use every sales bond it could. The only thing that kept Steve from attempting to stow away on a plane to Europe was the thought of doing this right, of not wanting to really jeopardize the chances of changing history for the worse before he could get to Bucky again.

When he finally got to Italy, performing before what was left of the 107th, the show went just as he remembered: He was boo’ed off of the stage, and the showgirls came back. Peggy found him a little while later, doodling in a notebook. She told him that she believed that he was meant for more than just the show, and Steve barely managed a snort; he was only meant for one thing now. Steve had never before been the type to be really, _truly_ selfish, putting his own wants and needs above everyone else’s, but he thought that he deserved this one thing, to focus on saving Bucky first and foremost, and then on winning the war.

Peggy mentioned the capture of the 107th, and Steve was off like a shot, chasing down his memories of how the next few minutes were supposed to go: barreling into Colonel Phillips’s tent and demanding to know Bucky’s fate, praying and hoping against all of the odds that somehow, he hadn’t been captured.

But Steve wasn’t that lucky; after Colonel Phillips dismissed him, Steve studied the map hanging in the tent for a moment, re-confirming the location of the factory, before leaving the tent and heading for one of the unused vehicles.

*********

Peggy and Stark helped him again, and by the early morning hours, Steve was breaking the other captives out of their cells and taking off in search of Bucky, hoping that he would be in the same room that Steve remembered; for once, the supersoldier was blessing his ability to retain all memories and in crystal detail; otherwise the search would have taken much longer.

Thank God, though, Steve found his best friend and partner in the same room as before, and his heart clenched in his chest. Bucky was still alive, but by this point he had been given a bastardized version of Erskine’s serum-- but Steve couldn’t worry about that now, not with Bucky murmuring his rank and identification number over and over in an attempt to keep from breaking.

There was an alarm blaring in the background, but Steve didn’t pay it any attention; he knew what it meant, but he also knew that he and Bucky had enough time to get out of here, once Steve got him off of that blasted experimental slab.

”Sargeant, 3-2-5-5-0-7, James Barnes…”

”Bucky?” It was like one of Steve’s nightmares come true; Bucky was strapped to a table, mumbling, and barely stirring when Steve said his name. Steve was quick to snap the restraints before grabbing Bucky by the shoulders. “It’s me, Steve,” he reassured Bucky as the brunet’s gaze landed on him.

After a moment, Bucky’s expression cleared. “Steve?” he repeated, a smile breaking across his face.

Steve let one of his own grow, relieved to see that Bucky was relatively okay. He helped Buck up and off of the slab, pulling the other man in for a bone-crushing hug. “I thought you were dead,” he whispered, not letting Bucky go just yet. Despite being nearly certain that Bucky would be exactly where Steve remembered him being, there had still been a part of Steve that had feared something going wrong and him not being able to reach his lover in time.

Buck was the first to pull back, though he kept Steve’s upper arms in his grip, clinging tightly. “I thought you were smaller,” he commented, confusion growing on his face.

A loud crack from outside of the their room interrupted whatever was going to come out of Steve’s mouth; reminded of the face that they were running on a tight schedule, Steve looked at the map on the other side of the room, memorizing the locations of the pins before wrapping an aroun around Buck and supporting him as he ushered the other man out of Zola’s lab. 

Bucky was clinging to Steve as he stumbled alongside the blond, and apparently he wasn’t ready to let Steve’s physical change drop just yet because he asked, “What happened to you?”

”I joined the army,” Steve replied flippantly, knowing that now was not the time to go into details.

Just as the two soldiers reached the main part of the factory, the explosives lining the floor went off, creating an inferno beneath their feet. Steve looked over the railing, thinking desperately. He led the way up to the next level, and almost as soon as he and Bucky reached it, Steve heard a voice he’d only heard a few times, though he’d grown to absolutely abhor it in those few times.

”Captain America, how exciting!” Schmidt’s voice was tinged with a slight layer of sarcasm, and STeve barely suppressed a growl at the sound of it.

”I am a great fan of your films.” There was a slight pause as he and Steve walked closer to each other, and then, “So Dr. Erskine managed it after all. Not exactly an improvement, but still… Impressive.”

Steve didn’t bother replying with anything different from what he’d used the first time: A punch straight to the lunatic’s face, knocking him back a few steps as well as knocking his mask askance, followed by a growled, “You’ve got no idea.”

Schmidt paused to adjust the plastic mask covering his deformed skull before responding. “Haven’t I?” he challenged; his own punch left an imprint on Steve’s makeshift shield, and he spared a thought to missing his vibranium shield before reaching for his gun. Maybe if he was fast enough--

Nope. A second punch knocked Steve off-balance even though he’d thought he was ready for it, and the gun was still knocked out of his hand, skittering across the walkway and over the edge to the burning factory floor below them. Cursing internally, Steve kicked out with both feet, knocking the approaching Schmidt back on his ass.

Zola pulled a lever from Schmidt’s side, and Steve bared his teeth at the other two men as they were separated by the receding walkway. Schmidt, apparently, wasn’t done talking: “No matter what lies Erskine told you, _I_ was his greatest success!” And with a few jerky movements, Schmidt had peeled back his mask, letting it fall into the flames below.

As Steve glared at the Red Skull, he heard Bucky ask, “You don’t have one of those, do you?” The brunet sounded faint, and Steve couldn’t help but curse at the fact that they were wasting time like this.

”You are deluded, Captain,” Schmidt continued, apparently oblivious to Bucky’s comment. “You pretend to be a simple soldier, but in reality you are afraid to admit that we have left humanity behind!” Not for the first time, Steve was struck by the thought that the imperfected serum had undoubtedly fried what little had remained of Schmidt’s sanity. “Unlike you, I embrace it proudly, without fear!”

”Then how come you’re running?” Steve called, but received no answer-- not that he was expecting one. The elevator doors shut in front of Schmidt and Zola, and Steve growled under his breath before glancing up to find the beam that would allow them to cross to safety. “Come on, let’s go,” Steve ordered, pulling Bucky towards the stairs. He helped the other man over the railing once they’d gotten there, and then Steve could do no more than watch anxiously as Bucky crossed the beam, his heart almost stopping when Bucky had to leap the last few feet. Steve let out a sigh of relief when Bucky had finished scrambling safely to the other side of the railing.

”There’s gotta be a rope or something--” Bucky started, voice desperate, but Steve cut him off.

”Just go! Get out of here!” The important thing was Bucky’s survival, not Steve’s; who knew if he could make the insane leap a second time? Bucky was safe, he should go ahead and get out while he could.

Bucky didn’t appear to share the same opinion, that he should leave Steve behind. “No!” he shouted back furiously. “Not without you!”

Steve hesitated for only a moment before grabbing and bending the bars out of his way, backing all the way across the landing once that was done. He eyed the jump before him apprehensively; he’d literally done this exact same thing once before, but it was still intimidating as hell.

With one last deep breath and quick prayer for courage and luck, Steve took a running start, then leaped.

*********

Steve and Bucky didn’t really get much of a chance to talk until after they’d returned to camp, cheered by the returning soldiers and the ones who had escaped capture in the first place. Bucky had been checked out and released by the doctors, told only to rest and take it easy for a few days; no one had argued when Steve had offered to share his tent with Buck. Steve made sure no one else was around after he secured the flap for the night, and then he pulled Bucky into another hug, holding the brunet as tightly as he dared. “God, I was so worried,” he murmured, burying his face in Bucky’s neck.

”I’m here,” Bucky whispered back; Steve appreciated the fact that he didn’t bother trying to say that he was okay, because then Steve might have had to smack him. For a long moment, neither of them spoke, but eventually Bucky was the one to break the silence. “So how did you manage to join the army? Last I saw you, you were a skinny little asthmatic punk.”

The moment gone, Steve sighed and released Bucky before telling him almost everything that had happened; of course, he had to leave out a few details, such as him reliving his own past and why he had been so determined to be chosen for Erskine’s experiment. Bucky took a moment to digest Steve’s words, and then he stepped forward and slapped Steve hard enough to knock the blond’s head to the side. “So, just because you didn’t want to stay behind, where it was relatively safe, you decided to join an experimental program that could have _killed_ you?” he demanded, crossing his arms and glaring at Steve. “Thought I told you not to do anything stupid, you jackass.”

”I know,” Steve said placatingly, holding out his hands in a gesture of supplication, “but, Jesus, Buck, if I hadn’t, you wouldn’t have been rescued. You might have died on that table-- how do ya think that would have affected me?”

”How do you think it would have affected _me_ if _you_ had died in Stark’s machine, or while trying to rescue me?” Bucky snapped back, voice hurt and furious.

Bucky’s words stopped Steve short-- Steve already knew what his reaction would have been had he failed to save Bucky, but he had been so focused on trying to save Bucky that he’d failed to take into consideration what it would have done to Bucky if _he_ had failed; they were so close, always had been, that it had felt like losing a piece of his own soul when Bucky had fallen and Steve had thought him dead. He’d stopped caring so much about his own safety after that, even if he hadn’t become _suicidal_ , but Bucky would have reacted in much the same way-- maybe worse-- if Steve had died while trying to save Bucky. Swallowing heavily, Steve moved forward towards Bucky, and carefully, gently, framed the brunet’s face in his hands. “I am sorry for upsetting you,” he said sincerely, his voice soft. “But I’m not sorry for taking the risks that I did, because it means that we’re here, together, and you’re not a captive anymore. I can’t regret that.”

Bucky searched Steve’s gaze for a moment before sighing and moving to press a soft kiss to Steve’s lips. “Fair enough,” he murmured. “Just try not to be so stupid in the future, punk.”

”Jerk,” Steve replied, grinning before bringing back in for a proper kiss, deepening it and pressing closer to Bucky so that they were plastered together from their chests to their knees.

Bucky pulled back, and Steve could hear the grin in his voice, even if he couldn’t see it on the other man’s face. “That a gun in your pocket, or are you happy to see me?” Bucky teased, running a hand from Steve’s shoulders to the front of his pants, cupping the bulge of Steve’s half-hard(and rapidly heading towards painfully-hard) erection. “Oh.” Bucky’s voice sounded surprised, and Steve couldn’t help but flush.

”Yeah, uh-- the serum grew a lot of things,” he murmured, face and ears hot.

”Hey.” Bucky kissed Steve hard, and then dropped to his knees. “I’m sure as hell not complaining. Felt so good when you fucked me before-- bet it’ll feel even better now.”

” _Buck,_ ” Steve hissed, glancing over his shoulder to the tent flap. “Middle of an army camp, remember?”

”So make me shut up,” Bucky challenged, looking up to Steve with a defiant glint in his eye-- but under it, Steve could still read Bucky like an open book. The brunet wanted this, but it went more than simply wanting to see how Erskine’s serum had affected the size of Steve’s cock; Bucky needed to know that they were okay, that they would still be _them_ , even after the past year. Steve could give him that.

”Get it out, then, and get to work,” Steve said, voice gruff and low-- he’d meant what he said, they were in the middle of an army camp and they couldn’t risk being discovered. Even being Captain America and being responsible for saving the lives of four hundred men wouldn’t keep him from being discharged and disgraced if he and Bucky were caught. Steve didn’t even want to think about what would happen to Bucky.

Bucky followed the order without complaint, and Steve couldn’t help but grin-- Bucky’d always liked being ordered around; he got off on it, and Steve had to admit that he liked ordering Bucky around. More than that, he liked taking care of Bucky, liked knowing that Bucky trusted him implicitly. He and Bucky had a phrase they’d use if things got too intense-- like Steve felt like he was on the verge of an asthma attack, or if Bucky was uncomfortable with something-- but they rarely had to use it.

Steve bit back a groan when Bucky took his cock in his mouth, suckling lightly on the head before pulling back to lavish little kitten-licks along both sides of Steve’s length, working his way back to the head and slowly sliding his mouth down Steve’s cock, mindful of his teeth, and working his tongue along the vein on the underside. Steve buried his hands in Buck’s hair, his hips jerking when Bucky moaned at the gesture. “Fuck,” Steve hissed, rolling his hips more carefully this time, adoring the way Bucky just went lax, letting Steve work his cock deeper into Bucky’s throat-- Steve stopped when Bucky gagged slightly, pulling back to let Bucky breathe before fucking in again, a bit faster this time. Bucky couldn’t take all of Steve’s cock now when before he’d been able to take Steve all the way down to the root, but what he couldn’t suck, he stroked. Adrenaline and the lack of action in the past year made Steve come embarrassingly quickly, but Bucky came with one hand stuffed down the front of his pants and Steve’s come on his tongue, so Steve considered it even.

He helped Bucky clean up, and then they changed before pushing their cots together and sliding under the covers. Steve reached over and took Bucky’s hand in his, stroking Buck’s knuckles with his thumb. “I love you,” he said softly in the darkness that surrounded them.

He could just hear Buck’s contented hum before the brunet returned, “Love you, too.”

************

”Fifth one was in Poland, near the Baltic, and the sixth one was-- about-- _here_ , thirty-forty miles west of the Maginot line,” Steve said, almost to himself despite the people around him as he marked down the remembered locations of the other Hydra bases on a map. “I just got a quick look,” he added, quirking a small grin at the expression on Peggy’s face.

”Well, nobody’s perfect,” she said with a smile, and Steve’s grin grew.

He followed Peggy and Colonel Phillips over to another, larger map, one dotted with markers depicting the locations of Hydra facilities. “These are the Hydra weapons factories we know about,” he explained, stepping up between the other two. “Sergeant Barnes said that Hydra shipped all of its materials for another facility that isn’t on this map.”

Colonel Phillips nodded thoughtfully. “Agent Carter, coordinate with MI6-- I want every Allied eyeball looking for that main Hydra base,” he ordered, walking away.

Steve and Peggy followed. “What about us?” Peggy asked.

Colonel Phillips accepted a file from a woman-- who, Steve realized with a hot flash of embarrassment, was the same woman Peggy had caught kissing him the first time he’d lived through this. His attention was jerked back to the colonel as the older man announced, “We are going to light a fire under Johann Schmidt’s ass. What do you say, Rogers? You drew a map; you think you could wipe Hydra off of it?”

Steve glanced over his shoulder before focusing back on Colonel Phillips. “Yes sir,” he said, voice heavy with determination. “I’ll need a team.”

”We’re already putting together the best men.”

Steve barely held back a smirk. “With all due respect, sir-- so am I.”

************

Steve found Dugan, Morita, Falsworth, Jones, and Dernier at the same bar as he had the first time; when he posed the question to them about joining him in wiping out Hydra, Dugan was, once again, the first one to respond-- but not after taking a hearty swig of his drink. “So let me get this straight,” he started, putting his drink down.

”We barely got out of there alive, and you want us to go back in?” Jones finished, looking at Steve like he’d lost his mind-- and maybe he had; drunk off of the success of rescuing Bucky, Steve was determined to take out as much of Hydra as he could before they would eventually go after Zola in the Alps. Although if Steve had anything to say about it, he’d just as soon take out Zola as well as Schmidt before things got to that point.

Steve inclined his head; Jones did have a point, after all. “Pretty much,” he confirmed.

”Sounds rather… fun, actually,” Falsworth commented.

Morita let out an impressive belch. “I’m in.”

Dernier chimed in with some rapid French and Jones exchanged some words with him before the black man said, “We’re in,” gesturing to himself and Dernier.

Steve glanced to Dugan then-- he was the last man, besides Bucky, that had yet to answer. “Hell, I’ll always fight,” Dugan said, raising his glass to Steve. “But you gotta do one thing for me.”

”What’s that?” Steve asked with a grin, knowing what was coming.

”Open a tab.”

The rest of the group chuckled as Steve swept the glasses onto the platter before taking it back to the bar. “Another round,” he said to the bartender, who looked at the empty mugs in astonishment.

”Where are they putting all this stuff?” he asked incredulously.

************

After he’d delivered the freshly-refilled drinks to the newly-reformed(although Steve was the only one who knew that they were the _re_ formed) Howling Commandos, the blond went in search of his best friend, finding him in a slightly quieter part of the bar. Bucky must have read the others’ answers on Steve’s face, because he rolled his eyes and turned back to the bar. “See, I told you: They’re all idiots.”

Steve settled into the chair beside him. “How about you?” he asked, feeling nervous for the first time since he’d told Bucky his plan to form the team. “You ready to follow ‘Captain America’ into the jaws of death?”

”Hell no,” Bucky answered, snorting derisively. “That little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run away from a fight…” Bucky glanced at Steve, smiling softly. “I’m following him.” Steve returned the smile, accepting a drink from the bartender, waiting for-- “But you’re keeping the outfit, right?” Steve couldn’t help but shake his head and grin; Bucky really was shameless, sometimes.

Glancing to the poster that announced the Captain America Tour was cancelled until further notice, Steve smiled. “You know what? It’s kinda growing on me.”

Shortly after he said that, there was a telling silence that announced Peggy’s entrance to the bar; Steve waited patiently for her to get there, both him and Bucky instantly getting to their feet. Peggy told him that Howard had equipment for him to try, and Steve couldn’t resist flirting just a little with Peggy-- he was in love with Bucky, yes, but he also loved Peggy; could have fallen in love with her, too, after the war, if things hadn’t gone the way they had. Bucky grumbled a bit after Peggy left, but Steve glanced around to make sure that they were alone before leaning over to press a swift kiss to Bucky’s cheek. “You know you’re the only one for me, Buck,” he murmured, enjoying the way Bucky flushed and avoided Steve’s gaze, the way he always did when Steve chanced a small gesture of affection in public.

Bucky shoved him playfully. “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, punk.”

”Jerk,” Steve returned easily, smiling into his drink.

************

By simple virtue of the fact that he knew what would happen if he arrived a few minutes early, Steve made sure to arrive _precisely_ at oh-eight-hundred, just when Peggy was coming for him. Steve had no desire to piss Peggy off the way that he had the first time around. She led him to Stark’s workshop, and this time they parted on infinitely more amicable terms for the moment. Stark showed him the new equipment, including some of the ridiculously bulky shields he’d designed. Steve glanced around until he spotted the familiar circle of metal under one of the tables, reaching down to pick it up and easily slide it over his arm, ignoring Stark’s protests about it being just a prototype. It felt like coming home. “What’s it made of?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

”Vibranium,” Stark answered, unable to resist displaying his intelligence. “Stronger than steel, and a third of the weight. It’s _completely_ vibration-absorbent. It’s also the rarest metal on Earth; what you’re holding there? It’s all we’ve got.”

Steve could hear Peggy approaching, announced by, “Are you finished, Mr. Stark?”

”What do you think?” Steve asked, holding the shield up in front of him.

Peggy tilted her head, and then grabbed a pistol and fired off a couple of rounds-- Steve ducked beneath the shield, startled; he hadn’t thought she’d do that this time. “Paint a flag on it to match your uniform and it’ll do nicely,” she said, smirking, when Steve tentatively poked his head over the top.

Steve and Howard both watched her walk off, their mouths hanging open in awe. After a moment, Steve remembered, “I had some ideas about the uniform.”

”Whatever you want, pal,” Stark answered, his voice dazed.

************

Steve had almost forgotten, with the chaos of everything that had happened since he’d first woken up from the ice, what it had been like to work with a team that got along right from the start. Don’t get him wrong, the Avengers had eventually gotten their act together, but it had been hard-won. Working with the Howling Commandos was nothing like that. It might have been because Steve had saved all of their lives, but while Steve was unanimously considered the leader, no one resented him for it, and if there was a problem, they worked it out together. Steve had the final call, but he let-- no, more than that, he _insisted_ on having the rest of the Commandos help build the plan from the ground up. They were all experts in their own rights, and Steve would have been stupid not to take advantage of that, to let the team hold each other up where they were weak. The result was that Captain America and his Howling Commandos were revered throughout the Allied forces and back home in America-- comics were written about them just as frequently as news stories were. They got shit done, and accomplished Colonel Phillips goal: Lighting a fire under Johann Schmidt’s ass, making him nervous and taking out his weapons and factories.

Thanks to Steve’s foreknowledge, they were able to avoid some of the problems they’d encountered the first time-- but not all, and there were definitely new ones. Steve tried not to panic about the new problems, because he’d been waiting for them all along. He supposed he was lucky that he hadn’t encountered them before now, but despite being prepared, it was still disconcerting, going into a situation prepared for one course of action and having to improvise when things take an unexpected turn. Steve didn’t like improvising-- it caused more problems later on down the line, he’d found. Especially in the modern world-- the world after the twentieth century was over. If you deviated from a plan during a mission, you had to answer for that deviation. And that usually meant hours wasted in meetings and filling out paperwork, no matter if your new course had saved more lives than the original would have.

The Howling Commandos destroyed all the Hydra bases they knew about, but they had yet to locate the main base; for that, they knew that they would need inside information. And there was really only one reliable source, the SSR felt: Arnim Zola.

And so Steve and Bucky found themselves standing on a ledge in the Alps, Bucky(as far as he knew) for the first time, and Steve for the second. Steve’s gut was churning, but not from the prospect of ziplining down onto the train-- no, what he was nervous about was what would come after that: The start, if Steve couldn’t prevent it, of Bucky’s time in Hell on Earth.

Steve was drawn from his thoughts by Bucky’s voice. “Remember when I made you ride the Cyclone at Coney Island?”

”Yeah, and I threw up?” Steve replied, memories of that day flashing through his mind. It had been a clandestine date-- a day for the two of them to get out and spend time together; it had been fun, overall, except for the puking.

”This isn’t payback, is it?” Bucky asked, squinting suspiciously at the wire.

Steve grinned, following Bucky’s gaze. “Now why would I do that?”

Bucky was stopped from commenting by Jones. “We were right; Dr. Zola’s on the train,” he reported from his station by the radio. “Hydra dispatcher just gave him permission to open up the throttle. Wherever he’s going, they must need him bad.”

Steve put on his helmet, strapping it on securely as Falsworth said, “Let’s get going because they’re moving like the devil.”

Steve attached his own harness, calling back, “We’ve only got about a ten-second window. You miss that window, you’re a bug on a windshield.” Rolling his neck, Steve couldn’t help but grin at Dugan’s remark.

”Better get moving, bugs!”

************

Steve wasn’t planning to let himself get separated from Buck this time around; that had been his first mistake, leaving enough room for them to be separated by the train door, not insisting on Bucky staying right behind him as they moved through the carriages. It was an odd feeling, literally reliving his past, but Steve was determined to change what had happened, to write a new future for them. Bucky wasn’t going to fall, not again, not if Steve had anything to say about it. They were both going to make it off of this train.

Of course, the best laid plans always get disrupted. Despite insisting that Bucky stick close to him, they were still separated, the doors between them slamming shut with an echoing _clang_ , one that Steve had heard reverberate through his nightmares for years. Buck turned to face his attackers, and Steve found himself almost literally seeing red-- he became so furious that, as soon as the Hydra agent with his amped-up Tesseract-fueled weapon appeared, Steve didn’t bother trying to dodge. He leapt right for the agent, charging with an enraged roar and taking the man out without mercy. Maybe that was out of character for the Captain America that this time period knew, but Steve had lived through this and much more. He didn’t want to do it again, and at this point in time, he would do anything to keep history from repeating itself.

Steve used the Hydra agent’s weapon to blast open his own door before sprinting to the lock that controlled the door that led to Bucky’s carriage; Steve pulled out his pistol, elbowing the button to open the door and tossing his weapon to Bucky. A quick glance and nod was all that they needed, and then Steve was opening the door again, rushing into the carriage and knocking one of the boxes back, forcing the other Hydra agent out into Bucky’s line of fire. Bucky kept his weapon trained on the fallen agent as he and Steve approached. “I had him on the ropes,” Bucky said, a bit sullen, and Steve couldn’t help but grin even as he grew more nervous about what he knew was approaching.

\------------

History doesn’t like being tampered with, Steve would find out that day.

\------------

Despite Steve’s best efforts, he wasn’t quick enough to stop the hole being blasted through the side of the train, nor was he quick enough to keep Bucky from grabbing his shield and attempting to fire on the agent Steve had thought he had knocked out for good. Steve wasn’t quick enough to keep Bucky from falling out of the hole, clinging desperately to a twisted handle as the wind and snow whipped past them.

But this time, dammit, Bucky wasn’t going to fall. He wasn’t going to go through the hell that Hydra had put him through, not again. Not if Steve could help it.

On the previous go-around, Steve had been aiming to save both himself and Bucky, to keep them both alive. This time, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to save both of them, and had adjusted his expectations accordingly in the few seconds since Bucky had picked up the shield; now, Steve’s only goal was to keep Bucky safe, even at the cost of his own life.

As it would happen, that was to be the price Steve would pay for messing with history.

Steve leaned too far out to be safe to bring Bucky back, and when he hauled the brunet back into the carriage, he tipped himself over the edge. Bucky’s scream rang through the ravine and echoed in Steve’s mind.

As he fell through the icy mountain air, Steve found that he didn’t feel regret, that he was most likely about to die; who knew if he would survive the same fall that Bucky had. History had been changed, and for Steve, that was all that mattered. Whether he lived or died didn’t matter; Bucky had been saved, that was all he cared about. He didn’t feel afraid, or resigned, all he felt was--

************

Later-- much later-- when asked to give a report on the mission in the Alps, Bucky was unable to recall anything past Steve saving his life and losing his own in the process; he couldn’t remember capturing Zola, although he knew it must have happened, and he couldn’t remember getting back to base. Peggy stepped in and stopped the interview after Bucky broke down, shoulder shaking in silent sobs as he buried his face in his hands, crumbling under the weight of the realization that Steve was _gone_.

Agent Carter took Bucky back to her tent; the soldier had been unable to return to the one he and Steve had shared, displaying great anger when prompted about returning and sleeping there. It had been just about the only emotion Bucky had displayed since the mission until now.

Once inside the tent, Peggy offered Bucky a drink; when he accepted and took a sip, he was surprised to find that the glass was filled with whiskey. He didn’t hesitate to knock it back quickly, ignoring the burn at the back of his throat from the alcohol just as he’d been ignoring the burn of unshed tears behind his eyes for the past several days. Once he’d finished the drink, Peggy refilled the glass; Bucky drank this one slower. “It shoulda been me,” he manage to rasp out past the alcohol and the lump in his throat. “I was hanging offa the rail, and Steve--”

”Steve chose to save the life of the man he loved,” Peggy finished for Bucky, smiling gently when the brunet looked at her with startled eyes. “I had my suspicions,” she explained quietly, “but your reaction to Steve’s death-- sacrifice-- confirmed them.”

Bucky swallowed heavily. “Don’t say anythin’, please-- not for me, but for him. He don’t deserve that, being disgraced for loving a guy.”

”I never would, and never will,” Peggy swore quietly. “I don’t see him love you-- or you loving him-- as a sin. Not with the way you two loved each other; if that’s a sin, I can’t imagine what virtue looks like. Your secret is safe with me.”

Bucky gave Peggy a thankful-- albeit watery-- smile. “Thanks,” he murmured, polishing off his drink. He and Agent Carter sat in silence before Bucky asked, “So what’s going to happen now?”

Peggy shrugged one shoulder. “I’m not sure,” she admitted. “There’s been talk of disbanding the Howling Commandos-- without Steve’s leadership and the serum, we’ve lost our advantage; the higher-ups won’t condone spending money on something that won’t be effective in their opinion.”

The word ‘serum’ flashed through Bucky’s mind, illuminating a somewhat hazy memory from his time at the first Hydra base, before Steve had rescued him. He’d overhead Zola and Schmidt talking, debating something about a serum and an experiment. Zola had said that the subject-- Bucky knew now that Zola was referring to him; Bucky had been one of the few selected for experimentation, and he was the last survivor-- was responding well, but not nearly as drastically as Schmidt and the American-- whom Bucky would later come to learn was Steve-- had. His changes were more subtle, Zola had commented. There was a marked increase in strength and metabolic rates, although his physical appearance had not chagned.

”What if you had someone else with a similar serum?” Bucky asked, looking at Peggy intently. “What then?”

Peggy looked taken aback, but she paused to think Bucky’s question over before answering. “Well, I suppose then we could convince the higher-ups to keep the Commandos,” she said hesitantly. “Why?”

”Zola gave me something like Erskine’s serum,” Bucky said, saying aloud for the first time why he’d been on Zola’s experimentation table. “I could do Steve’s job.” Nowhere near as well as Steve had, of course, but the Howling Commandos had done a lot of good work up to this date; they deserved a chance to finish the job they had started.

Peggy was silent for a long moment. “You’d be willing to do that?” she finally asked. “To take on the role of Captain America?”

Bucky nodded, his expression hard, determined. “I want Hydra to pay,” he said darkly. “I won’t stop until they’re all dead.”

************

”We are deeply sorrowed to announce for the first time that Captain Steve Rogers has fallen in battle, during a mission to capture a prominent member of the Nazi science organization Hydra,” Colonel Phillips announced into the microphone. The Strategic Scientific Reserve was holding a press conference to announce Steve’s death and Bucky’s promotion. “As such, we at the SSR have promoted one of the Howling Commandos to Captain, to carry on the legacy Rogers left behind. Ladies and Gentlemen, I am pleased to promote Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes to the rank of Captain.”

That was Bucky’s cue, and he took a deep breath before stepping out into the spotlights, trying his best to ignore the flashing cameras. It was a short, simple ceremony, and Bucky could barely muster up a smile for the camera when it was over and he was now officially the new Captain America.

_I’ll make you proud, Steve,_ Bucky thought as he gazed out into the sea of cameras and faces before him. _I’ll make Hydra pay._

Bucky didn’t know what Colonel Phillips had said to Zola to get him to cooperate, and frankly, he didn’t care. What he cared about was the fact that they now knew where that main Hydra base was located, and they could begin planning to take it-- and what was left of Hydra-- out of the picture permanently. 

He and the rest of the Commandos came up with a plan, all the while pretending that they couldn’t feel the hole Steve had left behind.

While they were in transit, Bucky addressed his team. “I’m not Steve,” he started, “and we all know it. But I am grateful that you all agreed to keep fighting.”

Dugan was the first to respond, the rest nodding along with his words. “We would have kept fighting, no matter what. Hydra can’t get away with everything, and we all want them to pay almost as much as you do. We’re more than happy to help you kick Schmidt’s ass to Hell.”

Bucky couldn’t help but grin. “Then let’s make sure we wear our sturdiest boots.”

************

They were dropped off not far from the entrance to the base-- or at least, Bucky was. The rest of the Commandos stayed on the plane while Bucky went in the front door, taking out as many Hydra agents as he could before he was inevitably captured. He was taken to Schmidt, who merely raised an eyebrow when he saw Bucky in the Captain America getup instead of Steve.

”Where is the star-spangled man with a plan?” Schmidt asked, smirking.

Bucky bared his teeth. “You know damn well where,” he snarled. “Your men put him there.”

”That’s not the account I heard,” Schmidt returned, his smirk growing. “I heard it was _you_ who sent the late Captain to his death; he fell from the train while saving you, did he not?”

Bucky gritted his teeth. “He fell from _your_ train, you insufferable red jackass,” he growled.

Bucky didn’t see the punch coming, and even if he had, he couldn’t have avoided it thanks to the Hydra agents holding him from either side. Bucky doubled over, grunting in pain as Schmidt stood over him. “You would do well to watch your mouth, boy.”

Bucky lifted his head and spat in Schmidt’s face. “Fuck you,” he snared.

Schmidt’s expression twisted, but before he could move, the large glass windows were broken by the arrival of the other Howling Commandos, who immediately opened fire on the room.

Schmidt ran, but Bucky was right on his heels. He was nowhere near as good with the shield as Steve had been, but Bucky had been practicing; he managed to throw the shield, spinning it so that it prevented the doors to the hangar from closing after Schmidt as the other man ran. Bucky was briefly trapped by an agent with a flamethrower, but Agent Carter take care of that for him. Bucky gave her a grateful nod and smile as he ran past, down the hallway to the hangar.

He almost didn’t make it onto the Valkyrie, but once again, Agent Carter and Colonel Phillips ca to the rescue, this time in Schmidt’s own vehicle. Bucky got lucky when he got onto the Valkyrie, managing to take out the Hydra pilots before they could take off. Hopefully Schmidt was the only other one on this behemoth.

God must have been smiling on Bucky that day-- or maybe Steve had convinced Him to give Bucky a break-- because even though Schmidt got the drop on Bucky when he entered the cockpit, the Red Skull was the only other being on the plane.

”You Americans don’t give up, do you?” Schmidt taunted, but Bucky didn’t bother responding, choosing instead to charge straight into the fight. The two men knocked each other around the cockpit as they struggled, at one point managing to send the Valkyrie into a nosedive before Schmidt straightened her out.

Schmidt had apparently grown tired of fighting hand-to-hand because he had pulled out a gun and was firing it at Bucky as the America worked his way around the cockpit to his shield. Schmidt was monologuing, but Bucky paid his words no attention as he launched his shield into Schmidt’s gut, knocking the other man back into some kind of generator, which then began glowing and letting loose tendrils of blue light.

A cube was knocked from the generator, and apparently this was a bad thing, if Schmidt’s reaction was anything to go by. “What have you done?” Schmidt asked, horrified, as he grabbed the cube. A flash of light revealed-- stars? But Bucky was distracted by the screaming and disintegrating Schmidt.

There was another, brighter flash of light, and then Schmidt was gone, leaving only the cube-- which quickly burned a hole through the plane-- behind.

Bucky raced for the controls, but there was no way to divert the Valkyrie from her course. The soldier hit the radio controls, calling back to the base. “This is Captain Barnes; do you read me?”

Peggy was the one to answer. “James? Are you alright?”

”I am, but the plane isn’t,” Bucky answered. “I can’t stop or redirect her. I’m going to have to put her in the water; she’s too dangerous to land in New York, or anywhere near a city.” Peggy was saying something about getting Howard on the line, about how he could help, but Bucky had already made up his mind. “Agent-- Peggy. Don’t you let them forget about Steve, you hear me? None of those higher-ups, don’t let them think Steve wasn’t the reason we won.”

There was a moment of silence from the other end of the line before, “I won’t let them forget about either of you.”

Bucky smiled, and killed the radio.

************ 

Bucky woke up slowly, a frown on his face. There was a radio playing, talking about-- about a baseball game. More than that, it was a game he’d attended in person-- he and Steve had managed to scrape together the money for the tickets and had made a small date of it, with Bucky buying Steve food, and Steve catching a foul ball and giving it to Bucky.

Bucky already knew something was wrong; that game was from 1941, and the last date Bucky remembered was from 1945.

A young woman came in just as Bucky maneuvered so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed; she greeted him with a soft voice, but Bucky ignored that. This dame was dressed all wrong-- her hair was down, something a nurse or any other professional women would never allow; her tie was too long and wide to be a woman’s tie; and Bucky could actually _see_ the edge of the woman’s bra, something no decent woman would have allowed.

The woman seemed put off by Bucky’s intense scrutiny, but Bucky ignored that in favor of demanding, “Where am I?”

”You’re in a recovery room in New York--” she started, but Bucky cut her off with a growl.

”Where am I _really _?” he demanded. “I know this game-- I was there.” Bucky was lost and confused, but no way was he mentioning this lady’s lingerie and fashion style; he still had _some_ manners.__

The woman’s face blanked carefully, and Bucky lunged to his feet. “ _Where am I_?” he yelled, desperate.

”Captain Barnes--”

Two men burst into the room, and Bucky reacted without thinking, knocking them back and through a wall. He followed them out the hole he’d created, racing down metal halls and past people in suits-- knocking a few of them out of his way as he went-- until he burst out of the building and onto a street. Only, he’d never seen a street like this; it was too loud, crowded, and just too _much_ \--

Bucky ran. He ran until he was in the middle of some street, surrounded by honking cars and flashing lights and moving signs. He spun in a circle, looking for something-- _anything_ \-- that made sense, but he was surrounded by black cars, men spilling out from them. Bucky tensed, ready for a fight, but he was distracted by a voice.

”At ease, soldier.”

Bucky turned to find that a black man with an eyepatch had spoken and was now continuing. “Look, I’m sorry about that little show back there, but we thought it best to break it to you slowly.”

”Break what?” Bucky asked, his heart pounding in his chest.

The man’s face seemed to soften into something sadder. “You’ve been asleep, Cap-- for almost seventy years.” There was a long stretch of silence as Bucky tried to digest what that meant. “You gonna be okay?” the other man asked.

Bucky took in a shaky breath, his chest clenching painfully. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s just--

”I was hoping to see someone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think of this so far. :) I'm currently working on the next chapter; hopefully it'll be up in a few days.


	3. The Avengers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh by the way, I don't have a beta for this; if you want to volunteer, leave me a comment. :)
> 
> EDIT: I went back through this chapter the day after it was originally posted and changed some things; for the most part, everything stayed the same, but a lot of Bucky's lines were changed.

Bucky had only been awake for a little over a week when Fury approached him. In that time, he’d been set up in a small apartment in Brooklyn and had almost gone mad from boredom. He’d spent a few days at a shooting range, but ammo was expensive, and no matter what Fury or any other SHIELD agent said, Buck didn’t like the idea of wasting ammunition, not with his background as a sniper. Ammunition was precious, and not worth spending idly. So instead, the brunet spent most of his time at a gym modeled in the style of one from the mid-twentieth-century.

Killing punching bags gave him something to do, and it wasn’t like the exercise was unwelcome. On the contrary, it was very welcome-- Bucky relished the burn, pushing himself to his limit and beyond while trying to forget the nightmares that plagued him anytime he dared to sleep. Dreams of fighting with the Commandos, Steve in his scope as Bucky watched his back, picking off Hydra agents-- and from before, too. The slaughter and capture of most of his unit, and then being dragged into Zola’s lab, strapped to a table, clinging to the chant of his name, rank, and identification number to keep himself sane, to keep himself from hallucinating. And then thinking that it hadn’t worked, that he _had_ gone insane when Steve had showed up-- and all the memories after that. Each memory of time spent with Steve was bittersweet, knowing as he did what would happen-- what would happen to Steve, more precisely.

Bucky and Steve hadn’t had much time after the rescue, too busy attacking and taking out Hydra bases. But they had managed to make time for each other, even if it was only stolen moments in a tent, trying to keep quiet to avoid being caught by the Commandos. The other soldiers had been loyal to Steve-- the Howling Commandos had been loyal to each other first and foremost, and to the rest of the Allied forces second-- but neither of them had wanted to risk the Commandos finding out about their relationship. In the forties, it had been illegal for men to be in relationships with each other. Now, after almost seventy years, it was no longer illegal, though from what Bucky had managed to gather in the few days he’d been awake, it was still frowned upon.

 _Fat lot of good that does me,_ Bucky thought furiously, landing hit after hit on the punching bag, mixing in what he’d learned from training with what he’d learned growing up on the streets of Brooklyn, using every trick he knew. _Steve’s gone. Has been for decades._

As he abused the fabric before him, Bucky let his mind wander-- better to think about these things now, when he could take out the emotions brought on by the memories on something much less expensive than any of the furniture in his apartment. Scenes flashed through his mind, his fists flying swifter and more sure the faster the memories came. This exercise always ended the same way-- Bucky remembering flying through the air, hanging out the side of a speeding train, Steve reaching for him, grabbing his hand and tugging Bucky into the train… And then Steve losing his balance as Bucky found his on the carriage’s floor. The first Captain America falling out of the same hole that Bucky had, but Bucky wasn’t fast enough to catch Steve, forced instead to scream his name and watch helplessly as Steve fell through the air.

Bucky never had been able to remember what happened after that-- though he much rather would have remembered the events that followed rather than Steve’s fall. But when Steve fell, Bucky was attacking the punching bag in front of him ferociously, eventually knocking it clean off of the hook, sending it flying across the gym to hit a wall and split, spilling sand onto the floor.

The brunet took a moment to breathe before grabbing a new punching bag from the row and hanging it up. He didn’t start in on it right away, instead leaning forward to rest his forehead on the bag as he held on, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to steady his breathing.

It should have been Bucky that fell-- Steve should have lived, should have saved his own life instead of risking-- and giving-- it for Bucky’s. Bucky wasn’t worth it; he wasn’t as good as Steve. He should be rotting at the bottom of a ravine, not Steve.

After several long moments, Bucky started working over the new punching bag, working in a slow, steady rhythm, trying to lose himself in the monotony of the workout. That monotony was interrupted, however, by the arrival of the director of SHIELD, Nick Fury-- the same man who’d been the one to break the news to Bucky that somehow, he hadn’t died when he crashed the Valkyrie; instead, he’d been knocked unconscious and then, thanks to the concoction Zola had forced into his veins, the ice had slowed his heartbeat down to almost nothing, sending him into deep hibernation. “Trouble sleeping?” Fury called, and Bucky snorted.

”Slept for seventy years, sir, I think I’m good,” he retorted, hitting the bag a few times and briefly imagining that the square of fabric that he was aiming for was Fury’s face.

”You should be out celebrating, then,” Fury commented, pacing closer.

Bucky’s hits started picking up speed the closer Fury got. “Got nothing to celebrate,” he growled under his breath, chest heaving from the exertion; he wasn’t sure how long he’d been in the gym, only that it was long enough to destroy four bags today. He didn’t know how many he’d destroyed before now.

”Could travel the world,” Fury suggested. “Lots of people would like to see the newly-reawakened Captain America.”

Fury obviously wanted to talk, so with one last hard hit, Bucky obliged him, walking away from the punching bag and to a nearby bench, unwrapping his hands as he went. “They can shove it-- I don’t know this world, and I don’t know them. Last I knew, we were still at war, and I didn’t even know if what the Commandos did would stop Hydra. Then, a week ago, I wake up, and people tell me that America won the war and Hydra’s gone, the Commandos praised as heroes of the war.” Bucky finished with one hand, stowing the wrap before starting on the other. “Nobody told me the shit America pulled after the war-- the Internet’s a wonderful thing, by the way.”

”We made some mistakes,” Fury acknowledged. His next words seemed to carry an added weight. “Some very recently.”

Bucky eyed Fury suspiciously as he finished unwrapping his other hand. “You saying you got a mission for ‘Captain America’?” he asked, sarcasm dripping from his words-- he’d never gotten used to the title he’d taken on after Steve’s fall; to him, Steve would always be Captain America. “Want me to get back out in the world, start making SHIELD and America look good again?”

”No; I want you to help save the world.” Fury’s words were solemn, and that was enough to make Bucky at least attempt to force back the attitude and pay attention-- Fury was holding out a folder, which Bucky took, moving to sit so that he could balance the papers on his knees as he read them.

The folder contained pictures and files of what Bucky recognized as the cube that had been the destruction of so many lives-- including, in the end, the man who’d tried to wield it. The topmost paper labeled it the ‘Tesseract’, and Bucky took a deep breath. “Schmidt’s cube,” he murmured, flipping through the rest of the files.

”Howard Stark fished that out of the ocean when he was looking for you,” Fury explained-- Bucky glanced up at Fury in surprise; he hadn’t known Stark very well, but he supposed that the other man would at least want to make an effort to find what was left of Captain America’s body, if nothing else. Bucky knew that Howard had a son-- it was nearly impossible to go on the Internet or turn on the news without seeing someone talking about Tony Stark, otherwise known as Iron Man. Apparently this younger Stark had some sort of mechanical suit and had fought terrorists in it. Fury continued speaking. “He thought what we think now-- that the Tesseract is the source to unlimited sustainable energy. That’s something the world we live in now sorely needs.”

Bucky snorted; he’d seen what the Tesseract-- and things fueled by it-- could do. He didn’t much fancy a world where everything was run by some alien artifact. Still, if Fury was telling him all of this, then he had a reason. And if he wanted to get Bucky involved, then it was most likely because he knew the Tesseract-- so… “Who took it from you?” Bucky asked shortly, flipping the folder shut audibly and handing it back to Fury.

The director didn’t look impressed with Bucky’s attitude. “He’s called Loki. He’s-- not from around here. There’s a lot we’ll have to bring you up to speed on if you’re in,” Fury warned. “World’s a lot different from what you know-- a lot stranger.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “I saw a guy get sucked into space. Can’t get much stranger than that.”

”Ten bucks says you’re wrong,” Fury said solemnly, and then continued, “There’s a debriefing packet waiting for you back at your apartment. You know how to get in touch with us if you’re in.”

Bucky ignored him in favor of grabbing his gym bag and picking up one of the punching bags to take home-- something told him he was going to need it. Fury, however, wasn’t about to let him go that easily. “Is there anything you can tell us about the Tesseract that we ought to know now?” He sounded like one of Bucky’s old teachers, and that, more than anything, pissed Bucky off.

”Shoulda left the piece of shit at the bottom of the ocean,” he tossed over his shoulder without looking back.

************

Fury had been telling the truth when he’d said that there was a packet waiting for Bucky when he got back to the apartment that SHIELD had arranged for him. Bucky didn’t like that, being dependent on this huge organization whose first act towards him had been to attempt to deceive him, no matter their intentions-- but he didn’t have much choice. He’d only been out of the ice for a week, and had no way of supporting himself. In short, he was stuck.

In the end, Bucky agreed to go to work with this team-- which, apparently, was being called ‘The Avengers Initiative’-- not because he particularly wanted to, but because he didn’t have anything else to do, and it was what Steve would have done. Steve would have felt the need to help protect the world, and since Bucky had taken over the ‘Captain America’ mantle, he had always tried to live up to Steve.

So, Bucky found himself sitting in a jet flying over the ocean, poking at some fancy-schmancy tablet he’d been given and reviewing the information about the people he’d be working with. He was particularly interested in this Banner fellow. “So, Banner tried to copy Ste-- Erskine’s serum?”

The other agent besides the two pilots, an Agent Coulson, got to his feet, moving to stand next to Bucky. “Lot of people tried,” he explained with a shrug. “Lot still are. Steve Rogers-- and then you-- were the world’s first superheroes. Banner thought that gamma radiation would hold the key to recreating the results.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow as he watched a giant green monster-- codenamed ‘the Hulk’-- rampage across the video screen. “Didn’t really work out for him, huh?”

Coulson shook his head. “Not so much. When he’s not that thing, though, the guy’s like a Stephen Hawking. Like a--”

”A really smart person, yes,” Bucky finished for him without looking up. “Haven’t had much to do, so I spent a bit of time on the computer SHIELD gave me. I know who Stephen Hawking is.” Bucky, unlike Steve, had never been cautious of technology-- one of the reasons Bucky had idolized Howard Stark-- except for his part in creating the machine that had put Steve’s life at risk-- had been because the man was an unparalleled genius when it came to new technology. Bucky had always kept up on the latest technological advances, trying them out whenever he had the chance, and it hadn’t taken him an inordinately long amount of time to figure out the controls for the computer. He rarely slept, so when he wasn’t at the gym, he was on the Internet, trying to catch up on the history he’d slept through.

The back of the plane was smothered in a tense silence for a few moments before Coulson said, “I gotta say, it’s an honor to meet you in person-- Officially, I mean. I saw you when you were first brought in from the ice, but-- Well. It’s still a huge honor to meet you, Captain--”

”Barnes,” Bucky cut in, his voice terse as he shoved himself to his feet, moving to lean against one of the beams closer to the front of the plane. “Not Captain.” Bucky would never be able to think of himself as Captain America; hearing someone else refer to him by that title made him wince.

Coulson was taken aback, but to his credit, the agent recovered quickly. “Well, it’s an honor to have you on board with us, Barnes.”

Bucky nodded in acknowledgement. “I just hope things don’t go belly-up,” he murmured to himself.

Coulson took that as a general comment, though. “Even if they do, I think you and the others can rescue things,” he said confidently. “There’s a reason you were all picked for this initiative.” Bucky glanced at him, but didn’t say anything; after a second, Coulson volunteered, “We made some modifications to the uniform. Sturdier material, a bit different design. I had some input.”

Bucky couldn’t resist snorting. “Uniform? Aren’t the stars and stripes a bit old-fashioned now?”

Coulson shook his head. “With everything that’s happening, and the things that are going to come to light… People might just need a little old-fashioned.”

There wasn’t much Bucky could say to that, so he didn’t say anything.

************

The jet that Bucky and Coulson were on took them to a large ship in the middle of the ocean-- Bucky had never seen a ship this big; apparently the future had a thing for over-engineering. The ship was big enough that several jets of the same model that Bucky was on could land comfortably on it, and when Bucky and Coulson disembarked, Bucky couldn’t hold in a low whistle of appreciation; he always had liked machines and vehicles, and this was basically a wet dream come true. “What’s this thing called?” he asked Coulson, looking around eagerly.

”Helicarrier,” the agent replied, smirking like he knew something that Bucky didn’t-- which he probably did; any other time, Bucky might have pressed, but he was distracted by the technology and the red-haired bombshell currently walking towards them. “Agent Romanoff,” Coulson greeted. “This is Captain Barnes.”

”Just Barnes, ma’am,” Bucky offered with a grin, one that he’d used back before the war to sweep the dames off their feet-- but it didn’t seem to have much effect on the other agent.

”Hi,” she said with a nod, and then dismissed him in favor of Coulson. “They need you on the bridge; they’re starting the phase change.”

Coulson nodded. “Thanks,” he said, then offered Bucky another grin before heading off, presumably to the bridge.

Bucky watched him go, following Romanoff when she gestured. “It was quite the buzz around here, pulling you out of the ice. Thought Coulson was gonna swoon. Did he ask you to sign his Captain America trading cards yet?”

Bucky, who had been watching the bustle of activity on deck, looked to Agent Romanoff in surprise. “Trading cards?” he asked incredulously; he’d known that he and Steve had been the inspiration for a series of comic books, but trading cards? That was a whole other level of fame.

Romanoff smirked. “They’re vintage; he’s very proud.”

Bucky’s attention was caught by a man who was pacing in a small, uncertain circle-- part of him was analyzing the man for a threat, at least until he recognized the man as Dr. Bruce Banner-- Banner himself was not a threat, but the Hulk was another story. Ignoring Agent Romanoff, Bucky approached the other man. “Dr. Banner,” he said pleasantly, holding out a hand to shake.

The other man seemed to startle, looking for the source of his name, and then his gaze settled on Bucky. “Oh, hi,” he replied, stepping forward to shake Bucky’s hand. “They told me you’d be coming.”

”Word is you can find the Tesseract,” Bucky said, foregoing the pleasantries; he’d gotten the impression that this situation was quite urgent.

Banner’s expression shifted into something wary and long-suffering. “Is that the… only word about me?”

Bucky shrugged. “Only word I care about,” he answered, which wasn’t quite a lie; yes, Banner had the ability to turn into a giant green monster, but that wasn’t why he was here, unless they were being lied to. Banner’s purpose was more important than any potential drawbacks to his presence here.

Banner nodded, looking at Bucky with a thoughtful expression on his face, before saying, “Must be strange for you-- all of this.”

Bucky shrugged. “Not really-- it’s sort of familiar, actually. Army’s the Army, no matter the time, it seems.”

”Gentlemen,” Romanoff cut in, “you might want to step inside in a minute. It’s going to get a little hard to breathe.” Immediately after Agent Romanoff’s words, an alarm started and men were rushing about the deck; there was also the sound of moving machine parts that seemed to come from over the edge, and Bucky stepped closer to it, peering over.

”Is this a submarine?” he asked incredulously.

Banner chuckled humorlessly. “Really? They want _me_ in a pressurized, submerged metal container?”

Bucky could feel his jaw literally drop as he watched the ocean beside the ship churn in a whirlpool, a great metal contraption emerging from the water. It seemed like a huge version of the blades on the jet that had brought Buck here, and the supersoldier could see another one emerging further down the ship’s side.

”Oh no, this is much worse,” Banner said with false cheerfulness as they stepped back from the edge to avoid being hit with seawater.

************

Bucky and Banner followed Agent Romanoff into the interior of the ship-- helicarrier, Bucky remembered Coulson calling it, and now he knew what the other agent had been smirking about-- and through several halls before they finally came to what seemed to be the command center of the helicarrier-- the bridge. People in suits were moving with purpose, and Bucky took a moment to simply stare out the window at the sky in front of them-- it seemed impossible that something this huge was actually in the air. Director Fury was waiting for them, and without preamble, Bucky fished a ten dollar bill from his wallet and handed it over; seeing a man get sucked into space was one thing, but the sheer-- _everything_ on this helicarrier was another. The one-eyed man pocketed it with an amused snort. “Gentlemen,” he greeted.

Bucky wandered over to the panels at the front of the small raised floor, not touching them, but observing; the future truly was amazing. Behind him, he could hear Banner and Fury discussing finding the Tesseract, before Fury asked Romanoff to escort Banner to a laboratory. Then, it seemed, there wasn’t much else to do but make himself comfortable and wait until this Loki fellow or the Tesseract popped up somewhere.

After a while, Agent Coulson approached him again, and this time he did ask Bucky if he could sign the Captain America trading cards-- at least the ones featuring Bucky. “I mean, if it’s not too much trouble,” he added, not looking Bucky in the eye.

Bucky smiled despite himself; he liked Coulson. “Not at all, Agent.”

When Bucky agreed, Coulson seemed like a kid barely containing himself at Christmas. “It’s a vintage set,” he said, seemingly unable to keep from speaking. “Took me a few years to collect them all-- there were a lot made, of both you and Rogers. They’re near-mint, a bit of foxing around the edges, but--”

Coulson was interrupted by an agent exclaiming, “We’ve got a hit; sixty-seven percent match. Wait, cross-match raises that to seventy-nine percent.”

Coulson was back to business immediately, striding over to the agent and his computer. “Location?”

”Stuttgart, Germany, and he’s not exactly hiding.”

”Captain?” Bucky turned to face Fury, raising one eyebrow. “You’re up.”

************

The uniform was a bit heavier than he remembered, but it was almost like slipping into a second skin; he didn’t want to think about why that might be, didn’t want to think that maybe he was growing into the uniform that had been meant for Steve. Still, Bucky kept himself busy on the ride over to Germany checking and double-checking all of his equipment, and then fiddling with the shield; honestly, if the shield wasn’t such a huge part of the Captain America image, Bucky would have chosen not to use it anymore. He would much rather have had a nice sniper rifle; he’d done some research on the new guns, and a couple of them had almost made him cream his pants.

When they arrived, the Asgardian was in the middle of a crowd, talking to a man who had apparently refused to kneel like the rest. Bucky couldn’t have timed his entrance more perfectly if it had been scripted-- just as Loki was about to shoot the old man, Bucky dropped down in front of him, his shield deflecting the blast from Loki’s staff back into Loki himself, knocking the Asgardian off of his feet and onto his face. Bucky straightened from his crouch to get a good look at Loki. What he saw didn’t particularly impress him. “You know,” he started conversationally as he stepped closer to the Asgardian, “the last time I was in Germany, I met a man who thought himself a ruler of the world. Didn’t work out for him, if I’m remembering correctly.”

Loki smirked, using his staff to lever himself to his feet. “The soldier,” he said derisively. “A man out of time.”

Bucky could hear the sound of the plane that had brought him here circling around, and he returned Loki’s smirk with one of his own. “I’m not the one who’s out of time.”

_”Loki, drop the weapon and stand down.”_

Loki didn’t bother responding, choosing instead to attack; Bucky used his moment of distraction to fling his shield, hitting the Asgardian in the shoulder; he’d been aiming for the man’s face. He caught the shield on the rebound(and seriously, did this thing have a homing beacon in it or something? There was no way that his haphazard throw had ricocheted it like a boomerang.), sliding it back onto his arm before landing a punch on Loki’s face; it didn’t do much besides piss Loki off and make Bucky’s hand sting. From there, hits were landing and fists were flying so fast that Bucky had a hard time keeping track of them, more focused on not getting hit with the staff more than necessary and trying to incapacitate the Asgardian, losing the shield at one point(there went the homing beacon theory) and reverting back to the moves he’d used on the bullies of Brooklyn while protecting Steve.

Their fight was interrupted by some ungodly screeching screaming through the air, and Bucky flinched instinctively, looking for the source-- he found it in the form of the famous Iron Man suit: Tony Stark had arrived. He used some sort of light from the hands of his suit-- similar to the blast that had come from Loki’s staff earlier-- to knock Loki back and into the steps before straightening, a small arsenal rising from the suit, all pointed at Loki. Bucky got to his feet and moved to Stark’s side as the billionaire spoke.

“Make a move, reindeer games.”

With a shimmer of light, Loki’s arm disappeared, leaving him sitting in some medieval-esque outfit. “Good move.”

”Mr. Stark,” Bucky said with a respectful nod, his gaze never leaving Loki-- he didn’t trust the villain.

”Cap’n,” Stark returned with a nod of his own.

“Barnes,” Bucky corrected as a couple of SHIELD agents came to collect Loki.

************

Loki was taken into custody, handcuffed and led onto the plane; Bucky and Stark boarded as well, and the plane took off for the helicarrier. Bucky watched Loki carefully; there was something about the Asgardian that put him on edge. Eventually, he said something. “I don’t like it.”

”What?” Stark asked, distracted by a piece of floating dust or something. “Rock of Ages giving up so easily?”

”Not them,” Bucky answered, rolling his eyes. “ _Loki_ giving up so easily. Too easily. This guy packs a whallop.”

Stark seemed determined to be a smartass, though. “Still, you are pretty spry, for an old fellow. What’s your thing, Pilates?” Bucky glared at Stark, who took it as permission to continue. “It’s like calisthenics-- you might have missed a few things, y’know, serving time as a capsicle.”

Bucky clenched his jaw, mentally reminding himself that punching a team member in the face was not conducive to a successful mission. “Fury didn’t say anything about calling you in,” he said after a moment, though his voice was still tense.

”Yeah, there’s a lot of things Fury doesn’t tell you,” Stark agreed, and Bucky briefly considered punching him anyway, consequences be damned.

They were interrupted by several flashes of lightning and cracks of thunder, and Bucky’s attention was immediately caught by the way that Loki tensed and jumped. “Scared of a bit of lightning?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

”I’m not overly fond of what follows,” Loki conceded-- no sooner had the words left his mouth than something shook the plane. Stark quickly put on the helmet to his suit before punching the button to lower the cargo door, stepping closer to it; Bucky could hear a soft whir as the suit powered up. Another flash of lightning came, revealing a tall, broad blond man-- Bucky’s heart clenched at the momentary similarity to Steve before he got a good look at the man’s face-- who promptly stepped forward, knocked Stark on his ass with a giant hammer, and then grabbed Loki and jumped out the back of the plane with him.

Stark got to his feet, and his words betrayed how pissed he was. “And now there’s that guy,” he growled.

”Another Asgardian?” Agent Romanoff called from the front as Bucky yanked on his own helmet and mask.

“Think he’s a friendly?” he demanded, feeling himself settle into that zone he’d come to associate with sniping-- everything seemed to calm, and he could focus better than ever. Zola’s serum had only enhanced that.

”Doesn’t matter,” Stark answered. “If he frees Loki or kills him, the Tesseract’s lost.” The billionaire headed for the still-open cargo door, and Bucky stepped after him.

”Stark, we need a plan,” he said firmly, but Stark ignored him.

”I have a plan, Cap-- attack.” With that, Stark engaged the thrusters on his suit.

”Fucking drama queen,” Bucky growled, watching Iron Man leap from the back of the plane. He quickly grabbed a parachute, climbing into it and buckling everything securely.

”I’d sit this one out, Cap,” Romanoff called. “These guys are from legend-- they’re basically gods.”

Bucky snorted. “There’s only one God, ma’am, and I’m pretty damn sure He don’t dress like that,” he replied before following Stark out the back of the plane.

When Bucky caught up to Stark and the other Asgardian-- who he assumed was Thor, going from what he remembered from the files he’d been given before this all started-- they were in the middle of a brawl in the forest. Children, honestly, Bucky thought to himself; they didn’t even notice him landing on a nearby tree that they’d knocked down in their brawl. A well-aimed throw ricocheted his shield off both of their heads; _that_ managed to get their attention. “Hey, bozos! That’s enough!” he called, jumping down from his perch. “Now, I don’t know what you’ve got planned--”

”I plan to put an end to Loki’s schemes,” Thor interrupted, his expression and voice fierce.

”Then prove it,” Bucky challenged. “Put that hammer down.”

”Uh, no, bad call; he loves his ha--”

Thor sent Stark flying, his expression twisting in rage. “You want me to put the hammer down?” he roared, charging at Bucky.

Bucky barely had time to think, _Oh shit_ , and duck behind his shield before the hammer was brought down on it with all of the force the Asgardian could muster-- but the shield was perfectly fine, absorbing and redirecting the force from the hit in all directions, knocking over a few more trees and sending the Asgardian flying as well as knocking Bucky on his ass. When the ringing in his ears finally stopped, Bucky pushed himself to his feet, trying to regain his breath. He glanced at the other two who looked about as stunned as Bucky felt.

Bucky fixed Thor and Tony with a look. “You done with your little pissing contest?”

They both had the good grace to look sheepish.

************

Back on board the helicarrier, Bucky watched Loki and Fury’s exchange in silence, frowning to himself. Something wasn’t right here, and Bucky didn’t know what it was, but he was going to find out. He was pulled from his thoughts by Banner speaking. “He really grows on you, doesn’t he?”

Bucky snorted a soft laugh. “Loki’s gonna drag this out,” he reasoned. “So. Thor, you know him best. What’s his play?”

The blond Asgardian was standing a little ways away from the rest of the table, arms crossed and a frown on his face; still, he answered readily enough. “He has an army called the Chitauri. They’re not of Asgard or any world known to her. He means to lead them against your people; they will win him the Earth-- in return, I suspect, for the Tesseract.”

”An army. From outer space,” Bucky said flatly, glancing to Agent Romanoff, who shrugged.

Banner was the next to speak up. “So he’s building another portal. That’s what he needs Erik Selvig for.”

That last bit was news to Thor, apparently. “Selvig?”

”He’s an astrophysicist--”

”He’s a friend.”

”Loki has him under some kind of spell,” Romanoff explained. “Along with one of ours.”

”I wanna know why Loki let us take him,” Bucky cut in, frustrated. That was what was bothering him-- it shouldn’t have been so easy to capture and then re-capture the Asgardian. “He’s not leading any freaky space army from here.”

”I don’t think we should be focusing on Loki,” Banner disagreed. “That guy’s brain is a bag of cats-- you can _smell_ crazy on him.”

”Have care how you speak,” Thor said, his tone dangerous. “Loki is beyond reason, but he is of Asgard, and he is my brother.”

Agent Romanoff raised an eyebrow. “He killed eighty people in two days,” she pointed out.

”... He’s adopted.”

”I think it’s about the mechanics,” Banner continued, as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “Iridium. What do they need the iridium for?”

”It’s a stabilizing agent,” Stark announced, drawing everyone’s attention and reinforcing Bucky’s original assessment of Stark as possibly the biggest drama queen on the face of the planet. “Means that the portal won’t collapse on itself like it did at SHIELD. No hard feelings, Point Break-- you’ve got a mean swing,” he added, patting Thor condescendingly on the arm as he continued to the control panels; Bucky half-expected Thor to backhand Stark, but the Asgardian just looked after him with an exasperated expression. “Also means the portal can be opened as wide, and stay open as long as Loki wants.” Stark glanced to the side, and then announced with a pointed finger, “That man is playing Galaga! Thought we wouldn’t notice, but we did.” He paused, and then Bucky saw him raise one hand to his face before turning back and forth a few times; he realized when Stark spoke that he was covering one of his eyes and mocking Fury. “How does Fury even see these?”

Agent Hill’s answer of a deadpanned, “He turns,” instantly earned her the spot of Bucky’s favorite in the room.

”Sounds exhausting,” Stark commented, starting to fiddle with a few of the screens in front of him. “The rest of the raw materials, Agent Barton can get his hands on pretty easily. Only major component he still needs is a power source of high-energy density, something to… kick-start the cube.”

Agent Hill quirked one eyebrow. “When did you become an expert in thermonuclear astrophysics?”

”Last night. There was a packet of Selvig’s notes. The extraction theory papers.” He glanced around, raising his brows. “Am I the only one who did the reading?”

”Does Loki need any particular kind of power source?” Bucky cut in impatiently, tired of Tony’s showboating.

Banner was the one who answered. “He’d have to heat the cube to a hundred and twenty million Kelvin just to break through the coolant barrier.”

”Unless,” Stark continued, “Selvig has figured out how to stabilize the quantum tunnel effect.”

”Well if he can do that, then he can achieve heavy-ion fusion at any reactor on the planet,” Banner finished.

”Finally, someone who speaks English,” Stark said, looking around at everyone else.

”Is that what just happened?” Bucky asked, snorting.

”It’s good to meet you, Dr. Banner,” Stark greeted, shaking Banner’s hand. “Your work on anti-electron collisions is unparalleled. And I’m also a huge fan of the way you lose control and turn into an enormous green rage monster.”

Banner gave Stark a rueful smile. “Thanks.”

Fury chose that moment to re-enter the bridge. “Dr. Banner is only here to track the Cube,” he reminded everyone. “I was hoping you might join him.”

”I’d start with that stick of his,” Bucky suggested. “May be legendary, but it works an awful lot like a Hydra weapon.”

”I don’t know about that,” Fury disagreed, “but it is powered by the Cube.” Bucky frowned; wasn’t that basically what he’d just said? “And I’d like to know how Loki used it to turn two of the finest men I know into his own personal flying monkeys.”

Bucky snorted out a laugh at the reference while Thor looked confused. “Monkeys?”

” _Wizard of Oz_ ,” Bucky explained, grinning; that reference he knew from personal experience. He and Steve had gone to see it when they were young; he remembered being awed by the colors practically exploding across the screen when he was used to everything being monochromatic. “It’s an old film.”

”Almost as old as you, Capsicle,” Stark agreed, and Bucky rolled his eyes. “Shall we play, Doctor?” Stark continued, looking back to Banner.

”This way,” Banner agreed, leading the way out of the bridge.

************

With nothing better to do, Bucky eventually decided to go see if there was anything he could do to help Stark and Banner-- and walked in on Stark zapping Banner with something; the sound of electricity was easily recognizable. “Nothing?” Stark asked, seemingly disappointed with Banner’s reaction.

”Hey, jackass,” Bucky snapped, striding into the room. “Are you nuts?”

”Jury’s out,” Stark snarked, turning back to Banner. “You really have got a lid on it, haven’t you? What’s your secret-- mellow jazz, bongo drums, huge bag of weed?”

”Is everything a joke to you?” Buck demanded.

”Funny things are,” Stark answered, pulling out a bag of blueberries from… somewhere. “Blueberry?”

”No thanks,” Bucky replied, baring his teeth. “And risking the lives of everyone on board is funny? No matter if Banner has it under control or not, that is not for you to decide to test.”

”I wouldn’t have come on board if I couldn’t handle small pointy things,” Banner said, though for the most part he seemed to be staying out of this conversation.

Stark pointed emphatically at Banner. “You’re tiptoeing, big man. You need to strut.”

”And you need to focus, Stark,” Bucky snapped, glaring at the billionaire.

”I am,” Tony said flippantly. “Why did Fury call us in-- why now? Why not before; what isn’t he telling us? I can’t do the equation unless I have all the variables.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow; Stark _did_ have a point. “You think Fury’s hiding something?”

”He’s a spy,” Stark said, as if it was obvious. “Captain, he’s the spy. His secrets have secrets. It’s bugging him too, innit?” he asked, gesturing to Banner with a blueberry.

”Ah… I just want to finish my work here, and--”

”Doctor?” Bucky asked; he wanted to know what Banner thought of this situation.

Banner sighed and removed his glasses. “‘A warm light for all mankind,’” he quoted. “Loki’s jab at Fury about the Cube. Well, I think that was meant for you,” he explained, gesturing to Stark, who offered him the bag of berries as if they were a prize for guessing the correct answer; Banner took one. “Even if Barton didn’t tell Loki about the Tower, it was still all over the news.”

”The Stark Tower?” Bucky asked incredulously. “That big ugly monster in New York?” He ignored the injured look Tony gave him. “Loki’s talking about whatever you did to make it ‘green’, isn’t he?”

”It’s powered by an arc reactor, a self-sustaining energy source,” Banner confirmed. “That building will run itself for what, a year?”

”That’s just the prototype,” Stark explained. “I’m kind of the only name in clean energy right now, is what he’s getting at.”

”So why didn’t SHIELD bring him in on the Tesseract project in the first place if all they wanted was sustainable energy?” Banner continued. “I mean, what are they doing in the energy business in the first place?”

Bucky could see Banner’s point-- SHIELD was an intelligence agency, not some corporate energy company. “I should probably look into that once my decryption program finishes breaking into all of SHIELD’s files,” Stark mused.

Bucky looked to Stark in surprise, thought he got the feeling he really shouldn’t have been. ”I’m sorry, did you say--”

”JARVIS has been running it since I hit the bridge,” Stark interrupted. “In a few hours I’ll know every dirty secret SHIELD has ever tried to hide. Sure you don’t want a blueberry?”

Buck rolled his eyes and ignored the bag in his face. “And yet you’re confused about why they didn’t want a snoop like you around,” he commented.

”An intelligence organization that fears intelligence? Historically not awesome.” Bucky was going to punch Stark in the face, he really was.

”I think Loki’s trying to wind us up,” he said, ignoring Stark’s last comment. “This is a man who means to start a war-- why not do it by screwing with the defense’s mind? We don’t stay focused, we don’t succeed. We have orders, Stark. We should follow them.”

Tony shrugged. “Following’s not really my style.”

”Oh yes, and you’re all about style, aren’t you?” Bucky snipped.

Stark raised an eyebrow and straightened. “Of the people in this room, which one is a- wearing a spangly outfit, and b- not of use?”

”Barnes,” Banner interrupted, looking at Bucky intently. “Tell me none of this smells a little funky to you.”

”Oh, it outright stinks,” Bucky agreed. “But that doesn’t change the fact that we have our orders. Just find the Cube.” With that, Bucky left, his mind whirring.

************

After he left the lab, Bucky headed down the hall, following the traffic until he reached a secure storage area. He managed to wrestle open the door, keeping an ear out for any alarms. When he didn’t hear anything, he shrugged and stepped inside. He was greeted by rows upon rows of storage containers, but he knew things wouldn’t be that easy. If he wanted answers, they’d be hidden, not left out in plain sight. A bit of exploring found him standing in front of a normal door that, when opened, revealed another storage room-- this one, however, was only about the size of two supply closets, and Bucky stepped through the door, frowning. There were cases stacked one on top of the other-- they were small, rectangular, and very familiar. He broke the locks on one and flipped the top open, sucking in a breath at the sight in front of him-- it was a Hydra rifle, kept and stored in near-perfect condition. SHIELD had taken and _kept_ the weapons that had almost destroyed the world once before-- Bucky saw red. He snapped the case closed and grabbed it, storming out of the storage section and back to the lab. He walked in and dropped the case onto one of the metal tables loud enough for it to echo out of the room and down the hall.

Stark had been saying something about a ‘Phase 2’, and Bucky had a pretty good idea what that was. “Phase 2 is SHIELD uses the Cube to make weapons. Sorry, the computer was moving a bit slow for me.”

Fury turned towards Bucky, his hands held up in supplication. ”Barnes, we gathered everything related to the Tesseract, this does not mean that--”

”I’m sorry, Nick,” Stark broke in, spinning the monitor around to display schematics for a weapon. “What were you lying about?”

”I was wrong, Director,” Bucky sneered. “The world hasn’t changed one fucking bit.”

Agent Romanoff and Thor walked in, and Banner confronted the woman. “Did you know about this?”

”You wanna think about removing yourself from this situation, Dr. Banner?” Agent Romanoff replied without answering the question-- although her non-answer was answer enough, if the looks on Banner and Stark’s faces were anything to go by.

Banner chuckled. “I was in Calcutta, I was pretty well-removed.”

”Loki’s manipulating you--”

”And you’ve been doing what, exactly?”

”You didn’t come here because I bat my eyelashes.”

”And I’m not leaving because you got a little twitchy,” Banner shot back with a glare. He moved over to the display that was still showing the schematics. “I want to know why SHIELD is using the Tesseract to create weapons of mass destruction.”

Everyone turned to look at Fury, who sighed and pointed to Thor. “Because of him.”

”Me?” Thor asked, clearly confused.

”Yes, you. Last year Earth received a visit from an alien with a grudge match that leveled a small town. We learned that not only are we not alone, but we are hopelessly-- _hilariously_ \-- outgunned.”

”My people want nothing but peace with your realm,” Thor protested.

”But you’re not the only people out there, are you?” Fury countered. “And you’re not the only threat. This world’s filling up with people who can’t be matched-- who can’t be controlled.”

”Like you controlled the Cube?” Bucky asked, scowling.

”Your work with the Tesseract is what drew Loki and his allies to it,” Thor explained hotly. “It is a signal to all the realms that the Earth is ready for a higher form of war.”

”There’s a ‘higher form’?” Bucky asked incredulously.

”You forced our hand,” Fury said, obviously striving to keep the situation calm. “We had to come up with something--”

”A nuclear deterrent,” Stark cut in sarcastically. “Because that always calms everything right down.”

”Remind me again how you made your fortune, Stark?” Fury asked, raising an eyebrow.

From there, everything devolved into one giant argument that no one could keep track of. Eventually things calmed down enough that Banner could speak clearly-- “This is Loki’s M.O., isn’t it?” he asked. “I mean what are we, a team? No, no, no, we’re a chemical mixture that makes chaos; we’re-- we’re a time bomb.”

”You need to step away, Dr. Banner,” Fury said, taking a step towards the other man.

”Why shouldn’t the guy let off a bit of steam?” Stark demanded, laying a hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

”You know damn well why, Stark; back off,” Bucky snarled, shoving Stark’s hand off of him and poking the other man in the chest.

Stark’s expression hardened. “Oh, I’m starting to want you to make me,” he replied, and Bucky straightened, squaring his shoulders.

”You wanna go? You’ve never fought a day in your life that wasn’t inside that stupid suit of yours. Take that away and what are you?”

”Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist,” Tony tossed out, his tone flippant but Bucky could read the tension in his shoulders.

”I know guys with none of that worth ten of you,” he said, his voice low; he didn’t know where the words were coming from, but _damn_ it felt good to get in Stark’s face like this. “I’ve seen the footage; everyone here has. The only thing you fight for is _yourself_. You won’t make the sacrifice play, won’t lay down on a wire and let the other guy crawl over you to safety.”

”I think I would just cut the wire, actually,” Stark answered, and Bucky snorted.

”Right. Cause there’s always another way out-- and if there isn’t, then you both go down, is that it? You may not be a threat, Stark, but you better stop pretending to be a hero because you damn well aren’t-- I’ve met a hero, and you’ll never live up to him.”

Something flashed in Stark’s eyes, and then the other man was up in Bucky’s space as well. “Rogers, right? Everything special about him came out of a bottle, Barnes. You think you’re a hero, too, just because you share the same title?”

Bucky grabbed Stark by the front of the shirt and slammed him back into a wall. “Don’t you ever talk about Steve like that,” he snarled. “I’m not a hero, never have been and never will be, but Steve was the real fuckin’ deal. You don’t disrespect him like that, Stark. He made the sacrifice play-- he went into a huge goddamn Hydra base _alone_ , with no training, just to rescue a bunch of captives the SSR had give up on. He gave his life to save his teammate’s--”

”Yours, right?” Stark asked, shoving uselessly against Bucky’s chest. “We all know the history books-- you got your ass blasted out a train and Captain America pulled you in and doomed himself. You’re responsible for the death of the first superhero America had--”

Whatever else Stark was going to say was cut off a blast that rocked the entire helicarrier, throwing Bucky and Stark to the floor-- Bucky didn’t know where everyone else ended up. Still, with alarms blaring, Bucky shoved himself to his feet. “Put on the damn suit,” he snarled at Stark, who just nodded, looking a bit dazed, before tearing off down the hallway in what Bucky presumed was the direction of his room; Bucky headed for the source of the blast.

Bucky found it at one of the turbines that kept them in the air, and Stark met him there. The damage was horrific, and Bucky spared a moment to gape at it before giving himself a shake and refocusing. “Where do you need me?” he demanded over the earpiece that he’d grabbed on his way out to the turbine.

”I need you to get to the control panel and tell me which relays are in overload position,” Stark ordered, and Bucky complied without protest-- Stark was the expert here, and arguing would get them nowhere. A bit of creative gymnastics got Bucky across the wreckage to the control panel that Stark had pointed out, and he quickly hauled it open. He paused when he saw the inside-- he had no clue what was going on here. “What’s it look like in there?” Stark asked.

”It seems to run on some form of electricity,” Bucky responded helplessly. This was far beyond anything he’d ever seen or heard of in the forties.

”Well, you’re not wrong,” Stark responded before quickly running Bucky through checking the relays as he cleared out the debris.

”Relays are intact,” Bucky reported, closing the panel. “What’s next, Stark?”

”Even if I clear the rotors, this thing won’t re-engage without a jump,” Stark mused. “I’m going to have to get in there and push.”

”That thing gets up to speed, you’ll be shredded,” Bucky pointed out even though he figured Stark probably already knew that.

”That stator control unit can reverse the polarity long enough to disengage mag-lav and that should--”

”English, Stark,” Bucky snapped, and rolled his eyes at Stark’s exasperated sigh.

”See that red lever? Pull it, and the rotors will slow long enough for me to get out. Stand by it and wait for my word.”

”Got it,” Bucky confirmed, backing up a step to get some momentum before leaping for the ledge next to the lever. As he waited, he spotted some men in SHIELD uniforms coming towards the turbine-- but when one of them pulled the pin on a grenade and threw it towards the turbine, Bucky realized that they weren’t on SHIELD’s side. He reacted without thinking, leaping across the space to bat the grenade towards the ground where it exploded harmlessly; as soon as he landed on the opposite side of the gap, he swung down to confront the men, taking one out with a punch and tossing another off the ledge and into the open air, ignoring his yell. A third man came into view from the hallway and Bucky leapt up, hauling himself onto the walkway above his head; luckily, a rifle had fallen up there, and Bucky wasted no time putting the sniper skills he’d learned decades ago to good use, taking the other man out with a few well-aimed bullets. He backed up to the lever once more, keeping the rifle trained on the doorway and waiting for Stark’s order. He was distantly aware of the rotors beginning to move as he took out another agent, but he didn’t let anything distract him. After a few moments, Stark gave the order to pull the lever, and Bucky did so, allowing the rotors to slow enough for Stark to fly out.

They headed back to the bridge, Bucky taking out a couple more agents as they went, and Stark gave him an impressed look. “Nice aim.”

”US Army,” Bucky said shortly, plugging another agent.

When they got to the bridge, the news was grim-- Loki had escaped, Thor and Banner were M.I.A., and Coulson was dead. They both sank into seats, Bucky staring sightlessly at the glass tabletop. He’d liked Coulson-- the man deserved better than being stabbed in the back by Loki. Fury stepped up to the table. “These were in Phil Coulson’s jacket,” he said, holding up several small rectangles. “Guess he never did get you to sign them.” The director tossed the objects-- vintage Captain America trading cards, all with Bucky’s face on them, now stained with blood-- onto the table. Bucky reached for one, picking it up and studying it as Fury continued. “We’re dead in the air up here. No communications, no location of the Cube, no Banner or Thor… We got nothing.”

Fury paused for a moment, and then started speaking again. “Yes, we were going to build an arsenal with the Tesseract. I never put all my chips on that number though because I was playing something even riskier. There was an idea-- Stark knows this-- called the Avengers Initiative. The idea was to bring together a group of remarkable people, to see if they could become something more. To see if they could work together when we needed them to, to fight the battles that we never could. Phil Coulson died still believing in that idea-- in heroes.” Stark shot to his feet like he’d been electrocuted, and then walked-- almost fled-- from the bridge. Bucky and Fury both watched him leave. “Well,” Fury continued, his voice quiet as he put his hands behind his back and clasped them, “it’s an old-fashioned idea.” The director of SHIELD walked away, and Bucky was left there, alone, staring at a bunch of blood-stained cards and remembering their owner’s words: “People might just need a little old-fashioned.”

************

Bucky found Stark in the room that had housed the container that had served as Loki’s cell. They both stood in silence for a few moments before Bucky finally spoke. “Was he married? Coulson?” he asked, folding his arms and watching Stark.

”No,” the other man answered without looking at Bucky. “There was a… a cellist, I think.”

Bucky nodded slowly. “I’m sorry. He seemed like a good man.”

Tony chuckled humorlessly. “He was an idiot,” he said, finally breaking the stance he’d seemed locked into.

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

”For taking on Loki alone.”

”He was doing his job.”

Tony made a semi-disgusted, semi-exasperated noise. “He was out of his league. He should’ve waited, he should’ve--” Tony stopped, and Bucky moved closer.

”Sometimes there is no waiting-- you have to act.”

”Right, that worked out for him,” Tony snorted.

”This the first time you’ve lost someone in battle?” Bucky asked as Tony brushed past him.

The billionaire turned back to Bucky, speaking with a vehemence that didn’t quite surprise the sniper. “We are _not_ soldiers in some war,” Tony said furiously. He paused, then took a deep breath. “I’m not marching to Fury’s fife,” he said decisively, and Bucky nodded.

”Neither am I; he’s never been straight with us. But right now, we have other things to worry about, like the freaking alien army that’s going to come out of some hole in the sky. We need to find that hole.”

”He made it personal,” Tony said suddenly, and Bucky was briefly taken aback.

”I’m sorry?”

”That’s Loki’s point. He hit us all right where we live-- why?”

”To tear us apart,” Bucky said, brows drawing together in a frown, unsure of where the other man was going with this.

”Yeah, divide and conquer is all well and good,” he said, thinking about loud, “but he knows he has to take us out to win. _That’s_ what he wants. He wants to beat us, he wants to be seen doing it-- He wants an audience.”

”Right,” Bucky said, realization dawning. “I caught his act in Stuttgard.”

”That’s just previews,” Tony continued. “ _This_ is opening night and Loki, he’s a full-time diva. He wants flowers, he wants parades, he wants a monument built to the sky with his name plastered--” Stark stopped abruptly, and Bucky tilted his head.

”What?”

”Son of a bitch,” Stark swore.

************

Bucky went to grab Agent Romanoff before leaving; Stark had already left for Loki’s location. The soldier found the spy in a health ward, and he didn’t bother with pleasantries. “It’s time to go,” he announced.

”Go where?” Romanoff asked.

”Stark figured out where Loki’s hiding; we’re taking the fight to him this time. Can you fly one of those jets?”

Before Agent Romanoff could reply, a door opened and a man Bucky recognized as Agent Barton-- the one who’d been taken by Loki-- stepped out. “I can,” he said.

Bucky glanced to Romanoff, who nodded. That was all Bucky needed. “You got a suit?” Barton nodded, and Bucky grinned. “Then suit up.”

The three of them made their way to the hangar where they entered the back of one open jet. An agent was doing some maintenance work, and he stood up and moved in front of them when they boarded. “Hey, you guys aren’t authorized to be in here--”

Bucky raised one eyebrow. “I don’t see how you’re going to stop us-- or do you want to be responsible for the end of the world?”

After a second, the agent stepped aside.

************

Bucky, Barton, and Romanoff’s arrival wasn’t quite as smooth as Bucky would have liked it to be, but they got there in one piece, and that was all that mattered. Bucky led the way out of the jet, jogging into the middle of the street to assess the scenario. He was nowhere near as good as Steve had been at improvising a plan, but there’d been more than a few times he’d had to improvise something of his own when things went awry. There was no pressure if his plan didn’t work; it would just mean the fate of the world. “We gotta get back up there,” was the first thing he realized. The Chitauri weren’t fighting from the ground; the three of them couldn’t do any good while they were down.

A low roar swept across New York, and Bucky skidded to a halt, Barton and Romanoff to either side of him. “Holy shit,” he breathed, watching in awe as some sort of giant armored space whale came out of the portal. It passed over their head, Chitauri leaping from its sides. “Shit,” he repeated. “Stark, you seeing this?”

”Seeing, still working on believing,” Stark replied. “Where’s Banner, he shown up yet?”

”Banner?” Bucky asked, curious.

”Just keep me posted,” Stark replied, and then Bucky was too busy fighting Chitauri and herding civilians out of the way to pay attention. Once they’d cleared the section of street they were on, he, Barton, and Romanoff took cover behind a cab.

“They’re fish in a barrel down there,” Bucky growled, looking over the bridge to the street below them, where civilians were running around screaming. More Chitauri were coming, and Bucky glanced over to Agent Romanoff, who nodded.

”We’ve got this.”

Bucky looked to Barton. “Think you can hold them off?”

”Captain,” Barton responded, pressing a few buttons on his bow, “It would be my genuine pleasure.”

Leaving them to it, Bucky leaped over the bridge, making his way to the police officers who were running around like chickens with their heads cut off. “Hey!” he barked, grabbing their attention. “You need men in these buildings; there are people inside and they’re gonna need help getting out without getting in the line of fire. You take them to the basement or to the subway but you keep them off the fucking street, are we clear? I’m gonna need a perimeter as far back as Thirty-Ninth, as well.”

”Why the hell should I take orders from you?” one of the officers demanded.

Bucky was stopped from replying by several Chitauri deciding to attack the man with the target in his hand standing on top of a car; after he dispatched them, the officers all scrambled to obey Bucky’s orders. The soldier raced back to Barton and Romanoff’s sides, trusting the police to do what they’d been ordered to. The remaining Chitauri-- for the moment, at least-- who’d been on the bridge were fried by lightning, signalling Thor’s arrival. “What’s the story upstairs?” Bucky asked.

”The barrier surrounding the Cube is impenetrable,” the Asgardian reported.

”Thor’s right,” Stark chimed in, “and we gotta deal with these guys.”

”How do we do this?” Romanoff asked.

”As a team,” Bucky replied, looking around and trying desperately to come up with a more detailed plan than that.

”I have unfinished business with Loki,” Thor stated.

”Yeah?” Clint asked, fiddling with one of his arrows. “Get in line.”

”Dicks away, boys,” Bucky snarled. “Loki’s going to keep this fight focused on us and that’s what we need. Without his direction these things will run wild. We’ve got Stark up top, he’s going to need us to--” The sound of a sputtering engine interrupted Bucky, and he turned around only to see Banner riding up on an old motorcycle that looked like it was moving only through sheer force of will.

”So,” Banner said, killing the engine and climbing off, approaching the team slowly. “This all seems… horrible.”

”I’ve seen worse,” Agent Romanoff commented, and Banner looked cowed.

”Sorry,” he apologized, but Romanoff shook her head with a small smile.

”No, we could use a little worse.”

”Stark, we’ve got him,” Bucky reported, contacting the man in the sky.

”Banner? Tell him to suit up, then-- I’m bringing the party to you.” No sooner had he said that then Tony came flying around a corner at the other end of the street, the space whale hot on his heels.

Everyone gaped at it, and Agent Romanoff was the first to find her voice. “I don’t see how that’s a party.”

”Banner, now might be a really good time to get angry,” Bucky said, readying his shield.

Banner turned to look at Bucky over his shoulder as he walked away. “That’s my secret, Captain-- I’m always angry.” As he turned back, he grew and changed until the Hulk was standing in his place, swinging a fist out to bring it smashing onto the alien’s head, bringing the alien to a screeching halt and most likely crushing what little brain it had. The creature’s death with greeted with enraged screeches from the Chitauri, and the Avengers gathered in a circle, their backs to one another, as Bucky quickly readied a plan. Suddenly things were looking up.

”All right everyone-- till we can close that portal, we need to use containment. Barton, you get up on that roof, I want eyes on everything; call out patterns and strays.” Bucky pointed out the roof that he would use if he was a sniper, and it seemed like that was what Barton was-- except Barton used arrows. “Stark, you’re on perimeter. Anything gets more than three blocks out, you turn it back or you turn it to ash.” Stark nodded, giving Barton a lift to the roof Bucky had pointed out while the Captain continued. “Thor, you gotta bottleneck that portal, try to keep them from getting out. You’ve got the lightning, so like those bastards up. Romanoff, you and me, we keep the fighting here, try to keep them on the ground and away from civilians. And Hulk,” Bucky added, waiting until he had the green being’s attention. “Smash.”

************

The plan seemed to be working fairly well, but unless they could close that portal, all their efforts would be for naught. Agent Romanoff echoed his thoughts. “Captain, none of this is going to mean a damn thing if we don’t close that portal.”

”Stark didn’t have any effect, doubt any guns will do any better,” Bucky said, taking the opportunity to catch his breath.

”Well maybe it’s not about guns,” Romanoff said, and Bucky looked at her curiously.

”You wanna get up to that portal, you’re going to need a ride, and Stark and Thor are both busy,” he said finally instead of prying.

”I got a ride,” she said confidently, and Bucky followed her line of sight to the Chitauri flying overhead. “Could use a boost though.”

Bucky backed up, holding his shield ready. “You sure about this?”

The SHIELD agent bounced lightly on the balls of her feet. “Yeah, it’s gonna be fun.” With that, she ran forward, used the hood of a nearby car to gain a bit more height, landed on Bucky’s shield, and Bucky boosted her up, watching as she grabbed a passing Chitauri vehicle. _Damn,_ he thought appreciatively. _Hell of a woman._ Then it was back to the fight.

Thankfully the National Guard finally showed up, but Bucky was needed in a nearby bank; none of the other Avengers were close enough. Bucky leaped through a window, tossing his shield at a Chitauri that had just activated some sort of bomb, and then dodged their blasts, diving behind a turned-over table that he then used to flatten the aliens against the railing. He managed to break one’s neck and warn the rest of the civilians to run before another Chitauri landed on his back. Bucky managed to break its chokehold on him, flipping over it just in time for its comrade’s blast to hit it and not him. Then he was running for his shield, jumping up and fitting himself behind it as the bomb went off, knocking him out the window. Bucky landed heavily on a car, and carefully pushed himself to his feet, one hand braced against his ribs. He’d lost his mask in the fight upstairs, but it wasn’t like no one knew who Captain America-- the current one-- really was.

All around him, firefighters and policemen were helping civilians out of the danger zone, but all Bucky could do was stop and look around-- it didn’t seem like there was any end to the stream of Chitauri coming from the portal. Still, Bucky kept fighting-- there wasn’t anything else he could do but fight. He could feel himself start to wear down, though-- Zola’s serum had given him more stamina than he’d ever had before, but even that wasn’t able to hold out for forever. Agent Romanoff’s voice coming over the comm was a miracle. “I can close it! Can anybody copy? I can shut the portal down!”

”Do it!” Bucky ordered, his voice almost desperate.

”No, wait!” Stark broke in; Bucky growled.

”Stark, these things are still coming--”

”I’ve got a nuke coming in that’s going to blow in less than a minute-- and I know exactly where to put it.”

Bucky felt like he’d just gotten the breath knocked out of him. “Stark, you know that’s a one-way trip,” he warned, but Stark had cut communication. Bucky was helpless to do anything except watch as Stark barely managed to keep the nuke from crashing directly into the Stark Tower, and then to wait hopelessly for Tony to come back through. The explosion from the nuke grew bigger and brighter, and Bucky knew what had to be done, even though Stark hadn’t come back. “Close it,” he said quietly.

Agent Romanoff didn’t argue, and a few moments later, the beam of light that had been a constant in the background of the battle disappeared, the portal shrinking in on itself as it closed. Just before the portal closed entirely, a tiny human-shaped figure fell through it. “Son of a bitch,” Bucky swore reverently, but it quickly became apparent that something was wrong.

”He’s not slowing down,” Thor exclaimed, swinging his hammer in preparation of lift-off, but the Hulk got there first, leaping across the grab Stark and slow his fall enough that he wasn’t flattened by the inertia. Bucky ripped off the metal mask, but Stark didn’t react. At least, he didn’t react until the Hulk roared; then, the billionaire woke with a short scream, eyes flying open. “What the hell?” he asked breathlessly, and Bucky couldn’t help but laugh. “What just happened? Please tell me nobody kissed me, I’m taken and Pepper would _kill_ me if someone kissed me.”

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh. “Your virtue’s safe, Stark,” he snickered. “And so’s the Earth. We did it; we won.”

”Yay,” Stark cheered weakly. “Good job everybody. Let’s all just take a day off tomorrow, yeah? You ever tried shawarma? I don’t know what it is but I want to try it; there’s a joint about two blocks down from here. We should celebrate with shawarma.”

”We’re not finished yet,” Thor commented, glancing up towards Stark Tower, the last place Loki had been seen.

”And then shawarma after,” Stark decided.

************

Loki was taken back into custody, and Thor took the Tesseract with him when they left for Asgard. Bucky and the rest of the Avengers saw them off, and afterwards Bucky said his goodbyes before heading back to his apartment; there were tons of news stories on the television about the fight in New York, some praising and some damning the Avengers for their actions, but Bucky paid them no mind; he knew the world was full of ingrates anyway.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to fight to protect it.

**  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, tell me what you think-- I will admit that Bucky definitely got quite a bit more asshole-ish than I originally intended him to, haha, but I think this still worked out fairly well.


	4. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, people, we're over the halfway mark! Woohoo!
> 
> Anyway, this chapter is to show you a bit of what's going on with Steve while Bucky's in the ice, as well as tug on those heartstrings a bit more. I really wanted to elaborate and bring in some canon/headcanon stuff, so here you go. :) Next chapter's going to cover TWS up until to just before the vault scene, and then after that we're really going to be deviating from MCU canon events.

_November 22, 1963_

Drago didn’t care for guns-- normally, when he was sent to take care of a target, he preferred to get close to the target while they were vulnerable, and take them out with a well-aimed slash of his knife. Unfortunately, that was not an option for this mission: The people who had ordered it wanted a public assassination. They wished to send a message, not merely eliminate a target.

Drago had been set up on the roof of a building near the Dealey Plaza, in Dallas, Texas. His target was the President of the United States-- John F. Kennedy. The man was scheduled to come through the Plaza in a car, and Drago was to take him out in broad daylight. Drago himself was hidden in shadows, and he had all of his equipment set up. In the earpiece, he could hear the other agents of his team murmuring to themselves, setting themselves in position should something go wrong.

There was a roar from the crowd gathered below, and Drago immediately tuned out the chatter in his ear, focusing on the scope of his rifle. The President’s car was laughably easy to pick out-- no one suspected that soon, the man would lie dead in the street. Drago pulled in one deep breath and let it out slowly, steadying his aim, adjusting for the slight breeze, and eased the trigger back.

Somehow, the first bullet missed-- it hit instead the man sitting in front of the President. Swearing angrily in Russian, Drago fired off another shot, this one hitting its mark straight through the President’s head. Certain that his job was done, Drago quickly packed his equipment and left, heading for the rendezvous point. 

Over the earpiece, he could hear many people shouting at each other-- he heard something about an interloper, and how he was an “impossible man”; he was accused of making the bullet stray from its path with his mind. Drago paid no attention to this, however; until he was contacted directly, he had his orders, and they did not involve assisting the other agents. 

************

While he was being prepped, Drago overheard some of the scientists speaking, sounding excited-- The man had put up a fight, and the original assessment was correct: He could move metal without touching it. The scientists could not wait to study him, and Drago stored the bit of information away for later; impossible humans existed. He did not know when it would come in handy.

************

_December 17, 1991_

It was a cold, snowy night, but Drago barely felt it; it was no worse than the cryotube he’d been put into so many times. He was standing on the side of a road in the mountains, in a place called Long Island. The asset was waiting to see the results of his sabotage, and to finish his job should the “accident” fail to do so.

He didn’t have long to wait; the car he recognized from the garage he’d infiltrated came down the hill too fast to be safe-- the brakes would be useless, and without them, the car would slip and slide all over the road; any correction in the steering would break the line, and all control would be lost.

Drago watched dispassionately as the car came towards him; he frowned, however, when he realized that it was not swerving the way he’d predicted it would. To fix the problem, Drago stepped out into the road.

The movement worked; the car jerked away from Drago and over a ravine, and Drago followed. The woman in the car was dead, neck bent at an impossible angle, but the man was still alive. He stared at Drago in horror. “You’re a ghost.”

Drago tilted his head to the side. “I am very much real,” he said, voice rusty from disuse.

The target jerked as if he’d been shot, though Drago had not fired a single bullet from the handgun he’d produced from its holster. “Steve? No, you’re dead, you died--”

_Bam._

************

Drago did not mention the target’s last words when he reported, choosing instead to say that the accident had not killed him, and so Drago had finished the job. When he was left alone, Drago thought on the words.

The man had called him something-- ‘Steve.’ He’d seemed to know Drago, though Drago had not recognized him. The more he thought about it, however, the more certain he grew; he _had_ known the target. More than just through the debriefing, he’d known the man personally. He thought, perhaps, that he might even have liked the man.

This, quite obviously, troubled Drago-- he knew the man, this Howard Stark, and he’d liked him. But _who_ was he? Drago could not remember knowing this man, could not call forth any memories of him from the depths of his mind.

This wasn’t the first time that Drago had had this problem; it occurred quite often when he was out of cryofreeze for a certain amount of time. He would begin remembering small snippets that seemed as if they belonged to another person.

Perhaps they did.

************

_July 26, 2014_

Drago woke slowly, the same as he always did when brought back from cryofreeze. He blinked a few times, clearing the last of the melted water from his eyes before he sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bench. The routine that followed was familiar, and in the end Drago was led to a room with a table and two chairs in it. The chairs were facing across from each other, and Drago took the unoccupied one. The man in front of him was one that he hadn’t seen before, but that didn’t matter; perhaps several years had passed since the last time he was awakened.

”I have a new target for you-- level five,” the man said, passing a folder over to Drago. The asset took it, opening the file and beginning to read the information provided. “This man is a co-worker of mine, but he’s getting a bit too close to the truth. This close to the launch of Project Insight, I can’t have that. I need you to take him out.

”His name is Nicholas J. Fury.”


	5. The Winter Soldier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is going to cover to just before the vault scene; after that, I'll no longer be paralleling CA:TWS as closely as I did TFA or The Avengers or the first part of TWS. And once we're past the end of TWS, then we'll get back around to the plot that was first brought up at the beginning of this fic-- that pesky Infinity Gem that was hiding in the temple.

Two years had passed since the Battle of New York; since then, Bucky had continued working for SHIELD, although now he operated out of Washington, DC rather than New York. It had taken a while for Bucky to settle into a rhythm, but eventually he’d managed it. He still didn’t require as much sleep as a regular person, and so when he got up-- usually at around five o’clock or so in the morning-- he would jog to the Mall to run laps before heading back home for a shower and a change of clothes before either continuing to work out, heading in to pick up groceries, or going to the Triskelion, SHIELD’s headquarters, to train with the other agents.

Lately, someone had been joining Bucky on his morning runs; they never spoke, but Bucky, thanks to his serum, consistently lapped the other man. Bucky found himself curious about him; no _sane_ person would willingly get up and go running at five in the morning, not unless they were used to it or were unable to sleep. The other man was in good shape; he kept up with Bucky pretty well, and he definitely appeared to be dedicated. If Bucky had to take a guess, he’d say that the man was military, or had been. Still, on one particular morning, Bucky decided to introduce himself in his own unique way.

”On your right,” he said as he passed the black man in jogging shorts and a sweater with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. All he did was nod the first few times Bucky lapped him, but when Bucky announced his presence for the fourth time, the man responded.

”Uh huh, on my right, got it.”

Bucky grinned, repeating the phrase for the next several minutes as the sun gradually rose over the capital, until eventually he was passing the other man in front of the pool in front of the Washington Memorial. He must have heard his footsteps, because the other man glanced over his shoulder, and then said, “Don’t you say it, don’t you dare--”

”On your right,” Bucky chirped with a shit-eating grin, speeding up when he heard the other man yell in indignation and attempt to chase him.

Bucky decided that was enough for his morning run, so he finished his lap, finding the other man on the ground panting as he leaned against a tree. “Need a medic?” Bucky called, grinning as he walked up.

The man laughed when he saw Bucky, which the brunet took as a good sign. “What I need is a new set of lungs; you just ran like thirteen miles in half an hour.”

Bucky shrugged, planting his hands on his hips as he caught his own breath. “Got a late start, I guess,” he grinned.

”Really? You should be ashamed of yourself,” the black man returned. “You should take another lap.” He heaved in a gulp of air, and then asked, “Did you take it? I assume you just took it.”

Up close like this, Bucky could see the military insignia on the man’s shirt, and he gestured towards it, questioning. “What unit you with?”

”Fifty-eighth pararescue,” he replied. “Working down at the VA now, though.” He held up a hand, gesturing for Bucky to help him to his feet. “Sam Wilson.”

”James Barnes,” Bucky introduced-- he never introduced himself as anything but that nowadays, when before he couldn’t stand his first name. Now he couldn’t stand anyone calling him the nickname that Steve had given him.

Sam groaned as Buck helped him up. “Kind of put that together. Must’ve freaked you out, being defrosted.”

Bucky shrugged. “Takes some getting used to, I’ll give it that.” He swore softly, looking at his watch. “It was good to meet you,” he said, raising a hand as he turned away; he was stopped by Sam’s next words.

”It’s your bed, right?”

Bucky paused, looking to Sam curiously. “Pardon?”

”Your bed,” Sam repeated, moving to stand in front of Bucky. “It’s too soft. I was over there, I’d sleep on the ground, use a rock or two for a pillow like some sort of caveman. Now I’m home, got a real bed, and it’s like--”

”Like lying on a marshmallow, feel like I’m gonna sink right through,” Bucky finished; he knew exactly what Sam was talking about, and he had to admit that there were times when the only way he could get some sleep was by sleeping on the tile floor of the bathroom. “How long were you over there?”

”Two tours,” Sam answered, crossing his arms. “You must miss the good old days, huh?”

Bucky snorted. “‘Good ol’ days’?” he repeated derisively. “Nah, not one damn bit. Don’t have to boil my food now to make sure it’s safe and edible, the fact that I don’t have to worry about when my next meal is is a fuckin’ miracle in and of itself, no smallpox or polio, Internet’s an amazing thing; people are still a bunch of assholes, though. Gotten a lot of flak for supporting some groups.”

”Right, I saw something about that,” Sam said, realization dawning. “You were at an LGBTQ meeting, weren’t you?”

Buck nodded. “Yeah. Said they had my support, what with me bein’ bisexual and all, and before I go to sleep the next morning everyone’s either praising me or damning me to Hell or calling me a liar, saying I only announced that for the publicity. Same old story, I guess.” Sam was nodding along with Bucky’s words, but his reply was interrupted by Bucky’s SHIELD-issued cellphone ringing with a text notification. Buck fished it out of his pocket and couldn’t help but snort at Natasha’s text.

_Mission alert. Extraction imminent. Meet at the curb. :)_

”All right Sam, duty calls,” he said, pocketing the device. “Thanks for the run-- if that’s what you want to call running.”

Sam’s expression, which had been friendly as he reached to shake Bucky’s hand, shifted to incredulous. “Oh, that’s how it is?” he demanded.

”Oh, that’s how it is,” Bucky responded with a smirk.

”Okay then,” Sam laughed. “Anytime you want to stop by the VA, make me look awesome in front of the girl at the front desk, just let me know.”

”Will do,” Bucky said, snapping off a lazy salute as he heard the unmistakable roar of Natasha’s car approaching the curb.

”Hey boys,” she called out the window, a grin on her face. “Either of you know where the Smithsonian is? I’m here to pick up a fossil.”

Bucky rolled his eyes as he slid into the car. “Real fuckin’ funny, Nat,” he said, reaching over to punch her playfully on the shoulder; Natasha returned it harder, and Bucky had to fight back a wince. The spy packed one hell of a punch, even when she was pulling it. He and Nat had gotten real good at working together since New York, and they were partnered up on pretty much all of the missions that SHIELD sent them out on; Bucky knew that he could count on Natasha to have his back, and she knew she could rely on the same from him.

Bucky glanced back to see Sam staring in awe at Natasha, and he grinned. “Can’t run everywhere,” he said.

”No you can’t,” Sam agreed, smiling; Bucky knew that look, he’d seen it on a lot of men’s faces once they got a good look at Natasha.

************

Natasha took them both to SHIELD’s hangar, where they boarded a jet that took them out to the Indian Ocean. They would be working with the STRIKE team for this mission; Bucky listened intently as Rumlow outlined the situation. “Target is a mobile satellite launch platform called the _Lemurian Star._ They were sending up their last payload when pirates took them, approximately ninety-three minutes ago.”

Pirates, great. “Any demands?”

”Billion and a half.”

Bucky frowned. “Sounds like a lot more than the usual ransom.”

”It’s SHIELD’s,” Rumlow explained, and Bucky sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “So this ship wasn’t off-course, it was trespassing. Lovely.”

”SHIELD probably has a good reason,” Nat said absent-mindedly, studying the display screen.

”Get real tired of cleaning up Fury’s shit,” Bucky muttered, shifting his own focus to the screen as well, mentally running through potential approaches.

”Relax, it’s not that complicated,” Nat answered, rolling her eyes.

Bucky snorted, but turned back to Rumlow. “How many?”

”Twenty-five; top mercs are led by this guy,” he answered, pulling up a picture on the screen. Georges Batroc; Ex-DGSE, Action Division. He’s at the top of Interpol’s Red Notice. Before the French demobilized him, he had thirty-six kill missions. Guy’s got a rep for maximum casualties.”

This was shaping up to be more and more fun. “Hostages?”

”Mostly techs; one officer. Jasper Sitwell. All were rounded up and are being kept in the galley.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed. “What’s Sitwell doing on a launch ship?” he murmured, mostly to himself as he readjusted his gloves-- his uniform had been modified even more in the two years since New York, and Buck was glad for it-- the old one had been a bit… ridiculous, especially the helmet. This actually felt like it was going to protect him, and he felt better able to move in it. Looking back up to the launch screen, Buck decided on a plan of attack. “I’ll sweep the deck, find Batroc and take out any mercs I find. Nat, you kill the engines then wait for instructions. Rumlow, you’re on aft-- find the hostages, get them to the pods and get them out.” A glance around revealed everyone nodding in agreement, and Buck smiled grimly. “Let’s move.”

************

Bucky forewent the parachute when he jumped, opting instead to dive straight into the ocean and climb up and onto the deck. He moved quickly and silently, efficiently dispatching any mercs he came across. Two extra years of experience with the shield made it into an extension of him the same way his rifles were-- he hadn’t let his sniping skills stagnate either. Captain America may be expected to go straight into the fray, but Buck would always be more comfortable behind the scope of a rifle.

Buck had the deck cleared within minutes, just before the STRIKE team landed. He’d missed one mercenary, which Rumlow dispatched for him. “Thanks,” Buck said, panting slightly.

Rumlow laughed. “Yeah, you seemed pretty helpless without me.”

The rest of the team landed around them, and Buck nodded to Nat. “Secure engine room, please.”

”On it,” Nat confirmed, vaulting the railing and dropping down to the deck below them.

Buck continued down the deck, working his way towards the bridge-- that was most likely where he was going to find Batroc. He sent a small bug up to land on the window of the bridge, listening as it transmitted the conversation inside to his earpiece.

” _I don’t like waiting._ ” There was a pause, and then, “ _Call Durand. I want this ship ready to move when the ransom comes._ ”

Another voice chimed in. “ _Yes, Batroc._ ” Bucky could hear footsteps, and then more words. “ _Durand. Start the engines._ ”

Bucky made his way away from the bridge-- he had his confirmation of where Batroc was, now he needed to put himself in position. More French came over the earpiece, and Bucky took a deep breath. “ _Radio silence from SHIELD, Batroc._ ”

Confirmation came in from the STRIKE team that they were in position, and the only thing left was the engines. “Natasha, status?” Bucky asked. There was silence, and he prompted, “Nat, status.”

”Hang on,” Natasha snarled through the comm, and Bucky couldn’t help but grin as he heard the sounds of fighting and choking coming through. A few agonized groans and shouts came through, and then: “Engine room secure.”

”On my mark,” Buck said, watching Batroc intently. “Three-- two-- one.”

Bucky ran, flinging his shield through the window of the bridge at Batroc’s head-- but the bastard ducked. Bucky leapt and hauled himself onto the bridge, but he misjudged his entrance-- Batroc was waiting for him, and knocked him to the side with a kick before running. The supersoldier turned his fall into a roll at the last second, springing up and leaping the control panel to grab his shield from where it had embedded itself in the wall before following the mercenary. Rumlow’s voice came over the comm. “Hostages en route to extraction-- Romanoff missed the rendezvous point, Barnes. Hostiles still in play.”

”Dammit,” Buck swore under his breath, gaze sweeping the deck and looking for Batroc. “Natasha, Batroc’s on the move, do you copy? Circle back to Rumlow, protect the hostages.” There was silence, and Buck frowned-- it wasn’t like Natasha to not acknowledge. “Natasha?”

Footsteps barely gave Buck enough warning to lift his shield in time to block Batroc’s boot coming straight for his face-- the other man’s attack forced Bucky back, and knocked him off-balance and onto his ass. Batroc brought his heel down hard, and if Bucky hadn’t shoved himself back and spread his legs, he would’ve been singing soprano. The other man was good, forcing Buck to fight on the defensive, and neither one of them held the upper hand.

At one point, they paused, and Batroc grinned. “ _I thought you were more than just a shield,_ ” he taunted in French, and Bucky decided to humor the man.

He unbuckled his helmet and locked the shield in place behind his back before replying, “ _Let’s see._ ” Batroc grinned, confident, and when he rushed in, overconfident, Bucky laid him out flat. Batroc had fought with a mixed martial arts style, whereas Buck went straight for the moves he’d learned on the streets of 1930’s-40’s Brooklyn, bringing the Frenchman down ruthlessly.

Batroc staggered to his feet, and Bucky charged him one more time, crashing them both through and door-- Batroc landed on his back, and Bucky punched him out.

”Well, this is awkward.”

Buck glanced up, frowning when he spotted Natasha typing at a keyboard. “What are you doing?” he demanded, shoving himself to his feet. “Rumlow needed you, and you’re here playing Tetris?”

”I’m backing up the hard drive-- it’s a good habit to get into,” Nat responded coolly.

Bucky looked at the data flashing across the screen, realization dawning. “You’re saving SHIELD intel.”

”Whatever I can get my hands on,” Natasha agreed.

”We’re here to rescue hostages--”

”No, that’s _your_ mission,” Nat interrupted-- a beep indicated that the transfer was complete, and the redhead yanked the flash drive from its socket. “And you’ve done it beautifully,” she added, moving to walk past Bucky.

Buck was having none of it-- he grabbed Natasha by the upper arm, bringing her to a halt. “You just jeopardized this entire mission,” he growled.

”I think that’s overstating things,” Nat retorted, breaking Bucky’s grip on her arm.

Bucky was stopped from retorting by the sound of someone getting to their feet, and he swore internally-- Could this son of a bitch not stay _down_? He knocked the grenade Batroc threw at the them to the side with his shield before grabbing Natasha and getting them out of the room just before it went off, destroying most of the room they’d just left. Bucky rolled to his feet and gave Natasha a hard look.

”Okay, that one’s on me,” she admitted, and Buck snorted.

”You’re damn right it is,” he threw at her before taking off down the hall in pursuit of Batroc.

************

Back in DC, Buck had a bone to pick with Fury, and he stormed into the Director’s office without knocking. “You just can’t fuckin’ stop yourself from lying, can you?” he demanded, striding over to the desk.

”I didn’t lie,” Fury countered. “Agent Romanoff had a different mission from yours.”

”Which you didn’t feel obligated to share,” Buck finished, glaring heavily at the other man.

”I’m not obliged to do anything.”

”Those hostages could have died, Nick. You don’t feel obliged to save the lives of your own people?”

Fury spun in his chair to face Bucky. “I sent the greatest soldier in history to make sure that didn’t happen,” he retorted.

” _Soldiers_ trust each other-- that’s what makes it an army, not a bunch of guys running around shooting guns, you dick,” Bucky snarled.

Fury shoved himself to his feet, his expression hard. “The last time I trusted someone, I lost an eye.”

”Boo-fucking-hoo,” Bucky growled. “I can’t lead a successful mission if I don’t know what’s going on with everyone. If I’d known that Natasha had a different mission, that would have been factored into the plan.”

”The plan you came up with worked just fine,” Fury said flatly. He took a deep breath, and then said, “Look. I didn’t want you doing anything you weren’t comfortable with. Agent Romanoff is comfortable with everything. It’s called compartmentalization. Nobody spills the secrets because nobody knows them all.”

Bucky snorted. “Except for you, right?”

Fury sighed, straightening. “You’re wrong about me,” he said. “I do share; I’m nice like that.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Right. _Nice._ ”

”Follow me,” Fury ordered, striding out of the office, and Bucky did. They entered the elevator at the end of the hall, and Fury directed the elevator to take them to something called “Insight bay.”

The first few moments were silent, and eventually Bucky broke it. “They used to play music in these.”

”My grandfather operated one of these things for forty years,” Fury shared. “Grandad worked in a nice building; got good tips. He’d walk home every night, a roll of ones stuffed in his lunch bag. He’d say hi, people would say hi back. Time went on, neighborhood got rougher. He’d say hi, they’d say, ‘Keep on steppin’.’ He got to gripping that lunch bag a little tighter.”

Bucky tilted his head, conceding the point. “He ever get mugged?” he asked after a second.

Fury chuckled. “Once a week or so, some punk’d say, ‘What’s in the bag?’, and Granddad would show them. Bunch of crumpled ones, and a loaded .22 Magnum.” Fury smiled, turning to face out the glass wall of the elevator. “Grandad loved people. But he didn’t trust them all that much.”

Buck followed the director’s gaze, and felt his eyes widen in shock as he took in the view. The elevator was taking them down into an underground hangar, and in that hangar, the supersoldier could see three helicarriers like the one he’d been on before the Battle of New York. People and vehicles were rushing everywhere, working on the helicarriers, and Bucky got an uneasy feeling. Fury led Buck through the hangar after the elevator stopped, and he got an up-close look at the helicarriers. They were armed to the teeth with guns, being loaded with jets that were equipped with guns of their own, and Bucky’s unease only grew.

”This is Project Insight,” Fury announced. “Three next-generation helicarriers, synced to a network of targeting satellites.”

A piece of the puzzle clicked into place. “Satellites launched from the _Star_ ,” he realized.

Fury nodded. “Once we get these helicarriers in the air, they never need to come down. Continuous sub-orbital flight, courtesy of our new repulsor engines.”

The designs looked familiar, and Bucky hazarded a guess at who had made them. “Stark?”

”He had a few suggestions once he got an up-close look at our old turbines.” Fury gestured to the guns bristling from the undersides of the bows of the helicarriers. “These new long-range precision guns can eliminate a thousand hostiles a minute. The satellites can read a terrorist’s DNA before he even steps outside his spider hole. We’re gonna neutralize a lot of threats before they even happen.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Usually people are punished for a crime they already committed,” he commented.

Fury gave a slight shake of his head. “We can’t afford to wait that long, not with crimes today.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Who’s ‘we’?”

”After New York, I convinced the World Security Council that we needed a quantum surge in threat analysis,” Fury answered. “For once, we’re way ahead of the curve.”

”Right,” Bucky snorted. “By holding a gun to everyone’s heads and calling it protection.”

Fury raised his eyebrow. “I read those SSR files, Barnes. The ‘Greatest Generation’? You guys did some nasty stuff.”

Bucky turned to face the other man, squaring his shoulders and taking a step forward. “Yeah, it’s called compromising-- the lesser evil. We did some things that didn’t let us sleep so well. But we did it so people could be _free_. This?” Bucky gestured at the helicarriers behind them. “This isn’t freedom-- this is fear.”

”SHIELD takes the world as it is,” Fury said calmly. “Not as we’d like it to be. It’s getting damn near past time for you to get with that program, Captain.”

”Don’t hold your breath,” Bucky sneered before walking away.

************

After the confrontation and revelations at the Triskelion, Buck needed to get away-- so he headed to the Smithsonian, to the Captain America exhibit. The exhibit featured information on both Bucky and Steve, and Bucky spent a good while standing in front of the display listing a summary of Steve’s life and death, listening to the narrator. 

“ _Best friends since childhood, Bucky Barnes and Steven Rogers were inseparable on both schoolyard and battlefield. Rogers was the only Howling Commando to give his life in service of his country._ ”

Bucky couldn’t quite hold back the wince-- Steve wouldn’t have had to give his life if it weren’t for Bucky. It should be Buck on that display. “Wish you could see this crazy world,” Buck murmured. “You’d be so pissed at what SHIELD is doing-- and I’d love to see you take Stark down a few pegs.” Eyes stinging, Bucky turned away from the display and made his way through the crowd and out of the museum.

************

Several months back, Bucky had found Peggy in a nursing home-- she had been diagnosed with Alzheimer's, which made visiting her hurt more, not knowing where her mind would be that day, but she was the only one from the War that he could talk to. “You should be proud of yourself, Peggy,” he said during his visit later that day.

Peggy smiled gently, and Bucky could see the young woman she’d been during the War in the lines of her face. “I have lived a life,” she agreed. “My only regret is that you and Steve didn’t get to live yours.” One side of Buck’s mouth tilted up, but fell just as quickly. Peggy was still just as perceptive as ever, for she asked, “What is it?”

”I joined the Army to do what was right,” he said quietly. “Then, I stayed to protect Steve. Now, Steve’s gone, and I don’t know what’s right anymore. I thought SHIELD did, I thought they were working to protect people, but now I’m not so sure.”

“You and Steve, you were both always so dramatic,” Peggy chuckled, reaching out to take Bucky’s hand in one of her own. She squeezed his hand reassuringly as she continued, “You both played a huge part in saving the world. We mucked it up after you were gone.”

” _You_ didn’t,” Bucky protested. “Knowing that you were the one to help found SHIELD is half the reason I stay.”

Peggy sighed, and smiled sadly. “The world has changed, Buck, and none of us can go back. All any of us can do now is our best, and sometimes, the best that we can do is to start over--” Peggy’s last words were overtaken by a coughing fit, and Bucky leaned over to pour her a quick glass of water. When he turned back, his heart sank as Peggy’s eyes landed on him and she said, her tone reverent, “James? You’re alive? You-- You came back.”

Bucky sighed, plastering a smile on for Peggy. “Yeah, Peggy-- I did. Can’t leave my best girl hanging, can I?”

************

After Peggy, Bucky was at a bit of a loss for what to do; he still had most of the day left, and nowhere to really be. After a bit of debate, he decided to swing by the VA-- maybe he’d run into Sam.

He was in luck; Sam was in a meeting, and Bucky leaned against the doorjamb to listen in. A woman was speaking when Bucky showed up, saying, “The thing is, a cop pulled me over last week. He thought I was drunk; truth is, I was swerving to miss a plastic bag. I thought it was an IED.”

There were sympathetic nods, and then Sam spoke. “Some stuff you leave there; other stuff you bring back. It’s our job to figure out how to carry it. Is it going to be in a big suitcase, or in a little man-purse? It’s up to you.”

Bucky thought on Sam’s words as the meeting closed out; he wasn’t sure if he was carrying the baggage he’d brought with him from the War, or if he’d even ever really left it. He went down into the ice in the middle of the second World War, and when he woke up, he was thrown headfirst into another one-- first against an alien force, and then a war against terrorism. He was yanked from his thoughts by Sam speaking. “Look who it is,” he grinned. “The running man.”

Bucky jerked a thumb at the meeting room. “Caught the last few minutes; pretty intense, it looks like.”

Sam nodded, sorting and straightening some pamphlets. “Yeah, brother-- we all got the same problems. Guilt, regret.”

Sam’s voice when he spoke the last two words sounded too familiar for Bucky to ignore. “You lose someone?”

Sam took a deep breath before he replied. “My wingman, Riley.” Bucky’s heart clenched at the way Sam said his partner’s name; it was the same way Steve’s name sounded whenever it passed Bucky’s lips. “We were flying a night mission-- standard PJ rescue op. Nothing we hadn’t done a thousand times before; least, not until an RPG knocked Riley’s dumb ass out of the sky. Nothing I could do; it’s like I was up there just to watch.”

Bucky nodded, glancing down to the floor; he knew the sentiment, the feeling, all too well. He also knew just how ineffective the words “I’m sorry” were, but he said them anyway. Sam accepted them with a nod, and then continued, “After that, I had a really hard time finding a reason for being over there, y’know?”

Bucky sighed, glancing around the lobby. “But you’re happy now, back in the world?” he questioned; it looked like Sam was doing good work here.

Sam’s expression lifted as he looked around. “The number of people giving me orders is down to about… zero, so hell yeah,” he answered, grinning-- now that he knew it was there, though, Bucky could still read the echoes of pain in Sam’s eyes; they’d probably always be there. But the way Sam seemed to have kept going, to have moved on… It only increased Bucky’s respect for him. After a moment, Sam asked, “You thinking about getting out?”

Bucky shrugged. “Not sure. Don’t know what I’d do with myself if I did.”

Sam’s expression turned into something mock-thoughtful as he suggested, “Ultimate fighting?” Bucky couldn’t help but laugh at that-- he could picture it, him going into a ring in the Captain America uniform. “Hey, just a suggestion off the top of my head,” Sam laughed. He sobered then, and continued, “Seriously though, you could do _whatever_ you want to do. What makes you happy?”

Bucky shook his head, images of Steve and the Commandos flashing through his mind. “I don’t know.”

************

************

Distantly, Drago could hear tires screeching and people screaming, a sure sign that his target was approaching, being herded straight towards him. He readied the weapon he’d been given, waiting for the battered black van to come within range before he depressed the trigger, releasing an explosive disk that attached itself to the underside of the vehicle before going off, flipping onto its front bumper and screaming down the road before tilting the rest of the way onto its hood and sliding to a halt. Drago dropped the weapon and approached the vehicle, using his left arm to reach down and rip the door off-- but when he ducked down to look inside, prepared to haul the target out of the wrecked vehicle to finish the job, he found nothing but a hole cut through the roof and leading into a sewer.

Drago straightened, turning to his men. “ _Find him,_ ” he ordered in calm Russian before climbing into the back of a waiting van.

************

************

Bucky wasted the rest of the day-- and the rest of his gas-- wandering around DC before eventually returning to his apartment; he’d seen a police line set up, a black van resting on its hood in the distance, but when he’d inquired about helping, he’d been told very firmly that they had everything under control, and he’d left with a shrug. He jogged up the steps to his apartment, coming onto his landing just as his next door neighbor, Kate, came out of her apartment, talking onto the phone. He nodded politely to her as he passed, listening to her side of the conversation as he fiddled with the lock-- it always stuck.

She hung up with a sigh, and said fondly but exasperatedly, “My aunt. She’s kind of an insomniac.”

Kate was holding a large load of laundry, and Bucky found himself offering, “If you want, you’re welcome to come in and use my machine-- save you a trip down four flights of stairs and some quarters.”

”Oh?” Kate asked, raising an eyebrow. “And what would yours cost?”

Bucky shrugged. “Cup of coffee?” he suggested, smiling charmingly; Nat had said something to him about how he should start trying to make friends outside of SHIELD, and Kate had always been nice to him, bringing him a pie when he first moved in and offering him some tips for dealing with the landlord.

The blonde chuckled. “Thank you, but I already have a load in downstairs,” she explained gently, and Bucky nodded understandingly. “Plus I just finished a rotation in the infectious disease ward-- you probably don’t want my scrubs in your machine.”

Bucky held up his hands in mock-defense, smiling. “I’ll keep my distance, then.”

”Hopefully not too far,” Kate said with a smile, and Bucky grinned back before turning to his door; Kate interrupted him before he reached for the knob, though. “Oh, I think you left your stereo on.”

”Oh, thanks,” Bucky said, grinning. “I tend to do that a lot, sorry.” He watched her go, and then turned back to his door, frowning. He leaned in close; he could hear some music playing from his apartment, but he most definitely had not left his stereo on. Which meant that someone had gotten into his apartment.

Bucky opted to go in through the window instead; the closest weapon was his shield, and he grabbed it, sliding his arm through the straps as he eased his way down to the hall and to his living room. Bucky glanced around the corner, sagging and rolling his eyes when he saw Nick Fury sitting in his armchair. “Don’t remember giving you a key,” he said shortly, leaning against the wall.

Fury hauled himself upright with a groan. “You really think I’d need one? My wife kicked me out.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow as he stepped closer. “Didn’t know you were married.”

”There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me,” Fury replied, and Bucky snorted.

”I know; that’s the problem,” he retorted, clicking the light on, only to pause when he got a good look at Fury’s face-- he was roughed up real bad. Before he could say anything, Fury held up a finger and turned the light back off, typing something on the phone in his hand.

_Ears everywhere._

Bucky fought back a growl, instead glaring at Fury; really, they’d bugged his fucking _apartment_? What’d they think he was going to do, call up the leader of Russia and go bragging about military secrets? “I’m sorry to have to do this,” Fury said, typing again, “but I had no place else to crash.” _SHIELD compromised._

Bucky raised an eyebrow, glancing to Fury. “Who else knows about your wife?” he asked, playing along.

Fury got to his feet, grunting. “Just-- ugh-- my friends.” _You and me._

Buck snorted. “Friends? Is that what we are?”

”That’s up to you,” Fury said, but anything else he may have said was cut off by a bullet coming through Bucky’s apartment wall and burying itself in Fury’s chest, quickly followed by two more. Bucky dragged Fury out of the line of fire-- as he passed a window, he could see the shooter on the roof across the alley from his apartment building. Fury grabbed his coat sleeve, and Bucky paused, looking at him questioningly; Fury held out the USB drive that Natasha had used to store the files from the _Lemurian Star._ “Don’t trust anyone,” the director managed to grit out, and then there was a pounding on the apartment door.

”Captain Barnes?”

Bucky crouched down, shield at the ready, but the only person to come into sight was Kate-- holding a SHIELD-issue firearm. “Captain, I’m Agent 13 of SHIELD Special Service. I’ve been assigned to protect you.”

”Fury’s down,” Bucky said shortly, focusing on that instead of the sting of betrayal, knowing that his neighbor was someone from SHIELD, someone who had been placed there to keep an eye on him.

The agent strode forward, gasping slightly when she saw the extent of Fury’s wounds, but then she was all business-- she checked Fury’s pulse, and then pulled out a walkie-talkie. “Foxtrot is down, he’s unresponsive,” she reported. “I need EMTs.”

Bucky could hear the dispatcher ask if they had a location on the shooter, and he glanced around the corner and out the window before growling, “Tell them I’m in pursuit.”

************

A short chase led Bucky to the roof of a building, hurling his shield at a blond man decked entirely in black gear-- all except for a silver, metal arm with a red star painted on the shoulder. Bucky hurled his shield at the assassin, expecting it to take the man down, but the man turned, using the metal arm to catch the shield. Mouth hanging open, Bucky could do nothing but stare as the man, who Bucky could now see was also wearing a muzzle, black painted around his eyes, cocked his arm and launched the shield back at Bucky; he could hear the gears inside of the arm recalibrating, and he barely kept himself from being knocked backwards by the shield; by the time he got to the edge of the roof, the man was gone.

************

Natasha met Bucky and Agent Hill at the local hospital, where Fury was going into surgery; the outlook was grim. “Is he gonna make it?” Nat demanded.

”I don’t know,” Bucky answered quietly.

”Tell me about the shooter.”

”He’s fast-- strong.” In his mind’s eye, Bucky could see the man not even flinching when he caught the vibranium shield, launching it back with just as much force. “Had a metal arm.”

In the window’s reflection, he could see Nat swallow hard. “Ballistics?”

Hill was the one to answer that time. “Three slugs, no rifling. Completely untraceable.”

”Soviet-made,” Natasha murmured; Bucky couldn’t read her tone.

On the other side of the window, the heart rate monitor flat-lined, and doctors and nurses were moving in a flurry, bringing in an AED to try to jump-start Fury’s heart. Beside him, Bucky could hear Nat murmuring to herself, pleading for Nick not to do this to her, and it struck him then, just how much Natasha respected and looked up to Nick Fury. 

Despite the doctors’ best efforts, the defibrillator didn’t work, and they were forced to call it.

************

Afterwards, Natasha confronted Bucky. “What was Fury doing in your apartment?” she demanded.

Bucky shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know.” Rumlow came up behind him, telling Bucky that SHIELD wanted him back at headquarters, and he nodded in acknowledgement before turning back to Natasha.

”You’re a terrible liar,” Natasha informed him before walking off. Bucky sighed, rubbing his forehead, and then remembered-- the flash drive. Fury had been hiding it, had told Bucky that SHIELD was compromised. He couldn’t take it back to the Triskelion-- but where could he hide it?

************

Back at SHIELD headquarters, Bucky passed Kate-- Agent 13-- on his way to the Secretary Pierce’s office. “Captain Barnes,” she said with a nod.

Bucky didn’t even look at her as he passed; Pierce watched the exchange silently before offering a hand to Bucky to shake. “Captain, I’m Alexander Pierce.”

”It’s an honor, sir,” Bucky responded politely.

”Honor’s mine, Captain-- my father served in the 101st.” Bucky remembered that unit-- they’d rescued them while Steve was Captain America. “Come on in.”

Bucky followed Pierce inside, sitting where indicated. Pierce showed him a few pictures, pointing out one where Fury was taking an oath. “That photo was taken five years after Nick and I met, when I was at the State Department in Bogota. ELN rebels took the embassy, and security got me out, but the rebels took hostages. Nick was Deputy Chief of the SHIELD station there, and he came to me with a plan: he wants to storm the building through the sewers. I told him no, we’d negotiate. Turns out, the ELN doesn’t negotiate, so they put out a kill order. They storm the basement, and what do they find? They find it empty. Nick had ignored my direct order and carried out an unauthorized military operation on foreign soil. He saved the lives of a dozen political officers, including my daughter.”

”So you gave him a promotion,” Bucky finished.

”I’ve never had any cause to regret it,” Pierce confirmed. They were both quiet for a moment, and then the question Bucky had been waiting for was asked: “Captain, why was NIck in your apartment last night?”

Bucky gave Pierce the same answer that he’d given Natasha-- despite what Natasha said, it was the truth. “I don’t know.”

”Did you know your apartment was bugged?” Pierce asked.

”I did; Nick told me,” Bucky answered, unsure of where Pierce was going with this.

”Did he tell you that he was the one who bugged it?” Bucky didn’t reply, but that was answer enough for Pierce. “I want you to see something,” the Secretary said, reaching for a remote and bringing up a video.

On the screen was Batroc, being interrogated. “Is that live?”

Pierce nodded. “He was picked up last night in a not-so-safe house in Algiers.”

”You saying he’s a suspect? Assassination isn’t really Batroc’s style.”

”No, it isn’t,” Pierce agreed. “This is more complicated than that. Batroc was hired anonymously to attack the _Lemurian Star_. He was contacted by email and paid by wire transfer, the money run through seventeen fictitious accounts. The last one-- the original one-- was a holding company registered to a Jacob Veech.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, accepting the file that Pierce handed to him. “That supposed to be ringing any bells?”

”No, it’s not-- Veech died six years ago. His last address was listed as 1435 Elmhurst Drive.” Pierce paused, and then continued, “When I first met NIck, his mother lived at 1437.”

The implication wasn’t lost on Bucky, and he looked up to Pierce incredulously. “Are you saying _Fury_ hired the pirates? Why?” Fury had a lot of secrets, and a lot of hidden motives, but Bucky had a hard time believing that Fury would become a turncoat and attack his own organization.

”The prevailing theory was that the hijacking was a cover for the acquisition and sale of classified intelligence,” Pierce revealed; Bucky’s bullshit-meter was going crazy at those words. Fury would never have given up secrets-- the only reason he’d even given Bucky the USB drive, Bucky suspected, was because Fury knew he wasn’t going to be able to track down the real perpetrator himself. Fury had said not to trust anyone, but Bucky had usually been a pretty good judge of character; Fury pissed the everliving fuck out of Bucky, but the man was trustworthy. Pierce continued with his bullshit theory. “The sale then went sour and that led to Nick’s death.”

”I find that theory hard to believe-- Fury liked his secrets too much,” Bucky replied.

Pierce nodded. “Why do you think we’re talking?” That threw Bucky for a loop, but he remained quiet, standing as Pierce did and following the other man over to the window. “See, I took a seat on the Council not because I wanted to, but because Nick asked me to. We were both realists. We knew that-- despite all the diplomacy, and the handshaking, and the rhetoric-- to build a really better world, a safer world, means sometimes having to tear the old one down. That makes enemies. Those people that call you dirty because you got the guts to stick your hands in the mud and try to build something better… And the idea that those people could be happy today, getting away with Nick’s death? That makes me really, really angry.

”Captain, you were the last one to see Director Fury alive. I don’t think that’s an accident, and I don’t think you do, either. So I’m going to ask one more time: Why was he in your apartment? Why did he go to you, and not to a safe house?”

Bucky raised one eyebrow. “He told me not to trust anyone.”

”I wonder if that included him.”

Bucky shrugged. “Sorry, sir; those were his last words. I’m pretty inclined to trust them.” Bucky started to leave, grabbing his shield and slotting it in on his back, but he was stopped by Pierce’s voice.

”Captain-- somebody murdered my friend and I’m going to find out why. Anyone gets in my way, they’re gonna regret it.” The man’s words were ominous, but Bucky just nodded.

”Understood.”

************

Bucky was fairly certain that even a completely shit-faced Dum Dum would have been able to predict the attack in the elevator; the men really weren’t subtle at all, although they almost won through sheer strength of numbers. Getting out of SHIELD had been trickier, but Bucky had managed it-- he didn’t head for the hospital first, no matter how much he wanted to. Instead, he found himself a disguise, stealing some clothes from a gym locker and leaving his uniform behind. Nothing but the shield went with him, and even that was stashed in a separate location.

He about had a heart attack when he realized the flash drive wasn’t in the vending machine where he’d left it, and then again when Natasha came up behind him and popped her gum right in his freaking ear. He glared at her before grabbing her by the arm and dragging her into an empty room, the door banging shut behind them as he slammed her into a wall. “Where is it?” he growled.

”Safer than where you put it,” she retorted. “Where did you get it?”

”Why would I tell you?” Bucky demanded incredulously; Natasha had stolen it-- hell, she’d been the one to create it. Why did he need to tell her anything?

Apparently he didn’t; realization sparked in her expression. “Fury gave it to you. Why?”

”Fine, yes, he did-- What’s on the damn thing?”

”I don’t know.”

”Stop _lying_ to me, Nat,” Bucky growled, giving her a shake.

”I only act like I know everything, James,” Natasha protested.

”Bet you knew Fury hired the pirates, didn’t you?”

”Makes sense,” Natasha conceded. “The ship was dirty, Fury needed a way in, so do you.”

Bucky was rapidly losing his patience. “I’m not gonna ask you again, Romanoff,” he warned, his voice low and dangerous.

”I know who killed Fury,” Nat blurted, and Bucky blinked. “Most of the intelligence community doesn’t believe he exists-- the ones who do call him the Winter Soldier. He’s credited with over two dozen assassinations in the past fifty years.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “So he’s a ghost story,” he concluded. “That doesn’t help.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Five years ago, I was escorting a nuclear engineer out of Iran. Somebody shot out my tires near Odessa. We lost control and went straight over a cliff-- I pulled us out, but the Winter Soldier was there. I was covering my engineer so the Soldier shot him right through me.” Natasha pulled up the hem of her shirt, revealing a large scar to the side of her stomach. “Soviet slug, no rifling. Bye-bye bikinis.”

”Yeah, but you’re hideous in them now,” Bucky snorted. 

”Going after him is a dead end; I know, I tried. Like you said--” Natasha pulled the USB drive out of a pocket, and Bucky snatched it out of her hand with a roll of his eyes “-- he’s a ghost story.”

”Let’s find out what the ghost wants, then.”

************

Natasha led them to a mall, where the first thing she did was get them better disguises than Bucky’s tracksuit and hoodie. Bucky felt like one of those stupid hipster kids, but he knew better than to argue with Natasha; this was what she did for a living. As they walked through the mall, Natasha reminded him, “First rule of going on the run is don’t run, walk. And quit looking over your damn shoulder.”

”I run in these shoes, they’re gonna fall off,” Bucky snorted, but he stopped looking over his shoulder and forced himself to relax his stride.

Natasha took them to an Apple store, where she commandeered one of the Mac computers on display. “The drive has a Level Six homing program, so as soon as we boot up SHIELD will know exactly where we are,” she explained, fingers flying over the keyboard.

”How much time will we have?”

”About nine minutes from-- now.” Bucky tried to keep from jittering too much while Natasha worked. “Fury was right about that ship,” she said after a moment. “Somebody’s trying to hide something. This drive is protected by some sort of AI; it keeps rewriting itself to counter my commands.”

Bucky glanced towards the door to the store, asking, “Can you override it?”

”The person who developed this is slightly smarter than me-- slightly. I’m gonna try running a tracer; if we can’t get the information off of this, maybe we can find out where it was written.”

Bucky was startled by the approach of one of the store employees, asking if he could help with anything, and he moved to block the man’s line of sight to the laptop screen. Natasha reacted much quicker than Bucky could, putting an arm around Bucky’s shoulders and hugging him affectionately as she chirped, “Oh no, my fiance was just helping me with some honeymoon destinations.”

Bucky played along, sliding his own arm around her waist. “Want to make sure we find the perfect place,” he agreed.

”Congratulations,” the employee offered. “Where are you guys thinking about going?”

Bucky glanced back to the computer screen in time to see a location pop up-- “New Jersey.”

The man was looking at Bucky strangely, and Bucky readied himself for a confrontation, but-- “Y’know, I have that _exact_ same pair of glasses.”

”Wow, you two are practically twins,” Nat said dryly, and Bucky rolled his eyes.

The employee chuckled, holding up his hands. “I wish. Specimen. You guys need anything, I’m Aaron.”

”Will do,” Bucky said, lifting a hand in a semi-wave as Aaron walked off. “Jesus,” he muttered, turning back to Nat. “You almost done there?”

”Relax,” Nat said quietly. “Got it.” On the screen, an address came up in Wheaton, New Jersey, and Bucky’s breath stopped. Nat noticed. “You know it?”

”No,” Bucky said, the words “Camp Lehigh” blinking on the screen, “but I knew someone who did. Let’s go.”

As they left the store, Bucky quickly scanned the crowds, easily picking out the SHIELD agents-- it was the STRIKE team. “Two behind, two across, and two coming straight at us. If they make us, I’ll engage, you hit the south escalator to the metro.”

The spy ignored everything Bucky had just said, saying, “Shut up and put your arm around me; laugh at something I said.”

”What?”

” _Just do it._ ” Bucky did, right as two of the STRIKE team walked by them; thanks to Natasha’s orders, they passed unseen. On the escalator, Bucky barely had time to clock Rumlow before Nat was turning to him and demanding, “Kiss me.”

”Gee, Nat, thanks, but I--”

”Physical displays of affection make people uncomfortable, moron, kiss me.”

Bucky didn’t waste time arguing, since Rumlow was almost at their level, so he bent down and pressed his lips to Nat’s gently, framing her face in his hands. Nat broke the kiss with a hum. “I give it a seven,” she commented before stepping off of the escalator. Bucky shook his head fondly, following her.

************

Outside of the mall, Bucky picked the lock on and hotwired a truck, and they used that to drive up to Jersey. After they crossed state lines, Nat asked, “So where did _Captain America_ learn to hotwire a car?”

Bucky grinned. “Brooklyn, and Nazi Germany. Always nice to have a getaway.”

Natasha hummed, and they drove in silence for another mile or two before she spoke again. “I have a question for you-- you don’t have to answer, but I feel like if you didn’t then you kind of would be, yknow?”

”The point, Nat.”

”Were you in a relationship with Rogers?”

Bucky glanced at Nat, and then sighed. “Yes, I was. For obvious reasons, we weren’t out-- and yes, before you ask, I did also date women. Steve was just… more.”

Nat nodded. “I wondered, ever since you shot me down when I suggested you ask Lauren out on a date.”

Bucky shrugged. “Maybe one day I’ll get back out there, but I still… I’m just not over him. Don’t know if I ever will be; Steve was one of a kind. Used to tease him about being an angel straight from Heaven, he’d get all red in the face and flustered, but some days… Some days I thought that was close to the truth.”

Natasha was quiet for a moment. “Sounds like one hell of a guy.”

”Yeah. Yeah, he really was.”

************

”This is it,” Natasha announced as they pulled up to a gated compound. “The file came from these coordinates.”

They scaled the fence, and Bucky looked around curiously as they looked for a possible site for a computer. “This is where Steve trained,” he said. “Always did wonder what it looked like-- don’t know why I figured it’d be different from a regular army camp.”

Natasha pulled his attention from his thoughts with a sigh. “This is a dead end; zero heat signatures, zero waves, not even radio. Whoever wrote the file must have used a router to throw people off.”

They were standing near the barracks, and Bucky moved to her side; as he looked around, his attention was caught by a building that was oddly placed. “That shouldn’t be there,” he muttered, approaching the door.

”Excuse me?”

”Army regulations forbid storying munitions within five hundred yards of the barracks-- this building’s out of place.” The door was secured with a padlock that couldn’t stand up to the vibranium shield, and he and Natasha entered.

Natasha was the first to speak after flicking on the overhead lights and illuminating rows of dust-covered desks. “This is SHIELD.”

”Maybe where it started,” Bucky said; this place had obviously been abandoned for years. They made their way back to the file room, where three portraits hung-- portraits of the founding members of SHIELD.

”There’s Stark’s father.”

”And Peggy Carter and Colonel Phillips,” Bucky agreed. He kept moving, looking for something out of place, and he found it in the form of a draft that was making some cobwebs move. “If you’re already working in a secret office, what are you going to hide behind a bookshelf?” Bucky asked rhetorically, frowning to himself. He managed to haul the bookshelf back, revealing a short hallway that led to a door with a number pad next to it. Natasha used her phone to decrypt the code, and when she punched it in the doors slid back to reveal an elevator-- there was only one destination, and with a glance to each other, the two agents stepped inside.

At the bottom of the shaft, the doors slid open and lights flickered on automatically, revealing an enormous setup that looked like something out a movie from the sixties. Cabinets went back to the far walls, and in the center of the room, straight across from the elevator, was a large display of monitors. Bucky noticed several grates leading to open spaces in the floor, and filed the information away.

Natasha walked up to the monitors, frowning. “This can’t be the data point; this technology’s ancient.”

Bucky nodded to the shiny black bos next to a bunch of disturbed dust. “Except for that.” One exchanged glance later, Natasha was plugging the flash drive into one of the ports. The computer came to life, reels whirring and clicking, and then the computer spoke.

” _Initiate system?_ ”

Natasha typed as she spoke, “Y-e-s spells… yes.” As the computer hummed, Natasha snorted. “ _Shall we play a game?_ ” she asked, deepening her voice with a smirk.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “ _War Games,_ nice,” he snorted.

The main monitor flickered, green horizontal lines arranging themselves into a stuttering face as a hauntingly familiar voice announced, “Barnes, James, born 1917.” The camera on top of the monitor turned until it was facing Natasha, and the same voice said, “Romanoff, Natalia Alianovna,” making Nat jump and look to it in shock. “Born 1984.”

”It’s some kind of recording,” Nat said, but the computer contradicted her.

”I am not a recording, _fraulein._ I may not be the man I was when the Captain took me prisoner in 1945, but I am not a recording.”

On one of the smaller screens, a picture popped up-- a picture of Arnim Zola. “You know this thing?” Natasha asked.

”Arnim Zola was a German scientist who worked for the Red Skull. He’s been dead for years.”

”First correction, I am Swiss,” the computer-- Zola-- said. Second, look around you; I have never been more alive. In 1972, I received a terminal diagnosis. Science could not save my body, but my _mind_ was another matter. It was worth saving on over two hundred thousand feet of databanks. You are standing in my brain.”

Bucky snorted. “Yeah, that’s not creepy or disgusting,” he muttered. “How did you get here, with SHIELD?”

”I was invited, Captain.”

”Operation Paperclip after World War Two,” Natasha realized, speaking aloud. “SHIELD recruited German scientists with strategic value.”

”They thought I could help their cause,” Zola agreed. “But I also helped my own.”

”How?” Bucky demanded, a terrible suspicion growing, connecting pieces of past events in his mind. “Hydra died with the Red Skull.”

”Cut off one head,” Zola said, the screen featuring his face splitting and doubling the image, “two more shall take its place.”

Bucky didn’t want to believe it. “Prove it,” he challenged, praying against all odds that he was wrong.

The other monitors came to life, displaying various articles and photographs. “Hydra was founded on the belief that humanity could not be trusted with its own freedom. What we did not realize was that if you try to take that freedom, humanity will resist; the war taught us that much. Humanity needed to surrender its freedom willingly. After the war, SHIELD was founded, and I was recruited. The new Hydra grew, a beautiful parasite inside of SHIELD. For seventy years, Hydra has been secretly feeding crises, reaping wars-- and when history did not cooperate, history was… changed.”

”That’s impossible,” Natasha broke in-- Bucky couldn’t respond, still trying to work past the fact that everything he and the Commandos had done was in vain; everything _Steve_ had done was in vain. “SHIELD would have stopped you.”

”Accidents will happen,” Zola replied, pulling up a picture of the article detailing the accident that had taken Howard Stark’s life. “Hydra created a world so chaotic that humanity is finally ready to sacrifice its freedom in exchange for its security. Once the initial purification process is complete, Hydra’s new world order will arise. We won, Captain. Your death and that of your predecessor amounts to the same as your lives: a zero sum.”

Bucky lashed out, his fist breaking the monitor displaying Zola’s smug green face, but the computer continued. “As I was saying--”

”What’s on this drive?” Bucky demanded, ignoring the blood dripping from his clenched fist.

”Project Insight requires insight,” Zola sing-songed. “So, I wrote an algorithm.”

”What kind of algorithm?” Natasha asked, moving to stand next to Bucky. “What does it do?”

”The answer to your question is fascinating; unfortunately, you shall be too dead to hear it.”

There was the sound of the doors closing, and then Natasha’s cell phone beeped. “James, we’ve got a bogey-- short range ballistic, thirty seconds tops.”

Bucky had a good idea he knew who fired it. “SHIELD?” he demanded; Natasha nodded, and Bucky growled, looking around wildly for a way to escape-- he remembered the open spaces, and ripped one of the grates out of the way, gesturing for Natasha to go in first. He followed as Zola continued speaking, his electronic voice smug. “I am afraid I have been stalling, Captain. Admit it; it’s better this way. We are, both of us, out of time.”

************

Bucky got them both out of the rubble and back to DC; he looked up Sam’s address in a phone book, and led them there. When Sam opened the door at Bucky’s knock, Bucky gave him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry to do this, but we’ve got no place else to go.”

”Everyone we know is trying to kill us,” Natasha added.

Sam looked between them before opening the door wider. “Not everyone.”

Sam offered them the use of his bathroom, and while Nat got a shower, Bucky just used a towel and water to wipe himself off. Afterwards, he walked over to sit next to Natasha on the bed. “You okay?”

She looked at him from where she was drying her hair. “Yeah.” Her voice was quiet though, and Bucky could tell that something was bothering her.

”What’s going on in that pretty red head of yours?” he asked, gently bumping shoulders with her.

Nat seemed to smile despite herself; it disappeared as she started speaking. “When I first joined SHIELD, I thought I was going straight. But-- Well, it seems like I just traded in the KGB for Hydra.” She sighed, and continued, “I thought I knew whose lies I was telling; guess I can’t tell the difference anymore.”

”How could you have known?” Bucky asked gently. “As far as the world was concerned, Hydra died with Schmidt.”

Natasha shrugged, and then turned to him, her expression serious. “I owe you.”

Bucky snorted and shook his head. “Nah; you don’t owe me anything, Nat.”

”If it was the other way around,” Natasha pressed, “and it was down to me to save your life-- now you be honest with me, Barnes-- would you trust me to do it?”

Bucky didn’t have to think about that one at all. “I would. And I’m always honest, you kidding me?”

Natasha smiled again, this one lingering. “You seem pretty chipper for someone who just found out that they died for nothing.”

Bucky laughed. “I like to know the name of the man I’m going to punch in the face,” he disagreed. “Now I do.”

They were interrupted by Sam, who looked at them strangely. “I made breakfast. If you guys, y’know, eat that sort of thing.”

Bucky put a hand on Nat’s shoulder, squeezing lightly before getting to his feet and following Sam out to the kitchen. “We’re not together,” he said conversationally. “So if you want to go for it, be my guest.” He could hear Natasha snickering at Sam’s spluttering.

After breakfast, Bucky and Natasha put their heads together to try to come up with a plan. “So, the question is: Who at SHIELD could launch a domestic missile strike.”

Bucky snapped his fingers. “Pierce.”

Natasha nodded. “Who just so happens to be sitting on top of the most secure building in the world.”

Bucky rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “He’s not working alone; so now the question is, who else in SHIELD is Hydra?”

It was Nat’s turn for a startling realization. “Zola’s algorithm was on the _Lemurian Star._ Remember who else was there?”

Bucky sighed, his head falling back. “Sitwell,” he growled in the direction of the ceiling. “Dammit.” After a second, he straightened. “So. How do the two most wanted people steal a high-ranking SHIELD officer in broad daylight?”

Sam dropped a folder down in front of them. “The answer is, you don’t.”

”What’s this?” Bucky asked curiously, reaching for the folder. There was a picture on top, of Sam with another man.

”Call it a resume,” Sam answered, leaning against the counter.

Natasha reached for the picture. “Is this Bakhmala? The Khalid Khandil mission, that was you?” Sam nodded, and Nat glanced at Bucky. “You didn’t say anything about this guy being Pararescue.”

Natasha handed the picture to Bucky, who studied it more closely. “This Riley?” he asked quietly, and Sam nodded again.

”I heard they couldn’t bring in the choppers because of the RPGs. What did you use?” Natasha asked, looking at Sam inquisitively. “Stealth chute?”

”Nope,” Sam said, moving to pick up the folder and hand it to Bucky. “We used these.”

Bucky studied the file inside, and couldn’t help but grin. “I thought you said you were a pilot?”

”I never said anything about a pilot,” Sam disagreed, but his own grin matched Bucky’s.

Bucky looked back to the papers in his hands, and then shook his head. “Can’t ask you to do this, Sam-- you got out for a good reason.”

Sam laughed. “Dude, _Captain America_ needs my help. No better reason to get back in.”

Bucky exchanged a glance with Natasha, and then rolled his eyes in resignation. “All right then. Where can we get our hands on one of these babies?”

”Last one’s at Fort Meade,” Sam answered, for the first time looking a bit apprehensive. “Behind three guarded gates and a twelve-inch steel wall.”

Bucky snorted, and Nat echoed his thoughts: “Shouldn’t be a problem.”

************

The plan to get Sitwell onto the roof went off without a hitch, and Bucky wasted no time in throwing Sitwell through the door onto the roof, pushing him back towards the wall around the edge. “Tell me about Zola’s algorithm,” he ordered, striding forward and grabbing the agent by the collar.

”Never heard of it,” Sitwell protested, fixing his glasses.

”Fine then-- what were you doing on the _Star_?”

”I was throwing up; I get seasick.” Sitwell stumbled when the backs of his knees hit the concrete wall, and Bucky let him hang back just a little, put a little more fear in his eyes. Bucky didn’t say anything, and Sitwell’s expression turned smug. “Is this little display meant to insinuate that you’re gonna throw me off the roof?” he asked snidely. “Because it’s really not your style, Rogers.” Sitwell didn’t even look at or acknowledge Natasha, and Bucky decided to let her handle him.

”Your right, it’s not,” he said soothingly, helping Sitwell straighten up and even fixing and smoothing out his suit. From the corner of his eye, he could see Natasha look at him in surprise, and he tilted his head in her direction. “It’s hers.”

Bucky stepped out of the way, and Natasha kicked Sitwell square in the chest, sending him hurtling over the edge. They watched him fall dispassionately, and Natasha commented, “I don’t like him.”

”Yeah, he’s an ass,” Bucky agreed.

Sam brought Sitwell back from his fall, dropping him onto the roof and landing a few feet away. Bucky walked over and shoved Sitwell in the chest, making him stumble. “You ready to talk yet?”

”Yes!” Sitwell yelped. “Zola’s algorithm is a program for choosing Insight’s targets!”

”What targets?”

”You, her, a TV anchor in Cairo, the Under Secretary of Defense, a high school valedictorian in Iowa City, Bruce Banner, Stephen Strange, anyone who’s a threat to Hydra, now or in the future,” Sitwell elaborated.

”How does it know?” Natasha asked, her voice hard.

Sitwell had the nerve to laugh. “How could it not? The twenty-first century is a digital book, and Zola taught Hydra how to read it. Your bank records, medical history, voting patterns, emails, phone calls-- hell, your damn SAT scores! Zola’s algorithm evaluates people’s past to predict their future.”

”And what then?” Bucky asked, scowling. “What happens when Hydra deems someone a threat?”

Sitwell seemed to realize something then. “Oh my god. Pierce is gonna kill me.”

” _Hey_!” Bucky snapped, getting the other man’s attention once more. “What happens next?”

”Then the Insight helicarriers scratch people off the list-- a few million at a time.”

************

Bucky, Sam, Natasha, and Sitwell were traveling down the freeway, towards the Triskelion. Bucky was trying to come up with a plan, but he wasn’t having much luck; Natasha hadn’t been kidding when she said that the Triskelion was the most heavily secured building in the world.

”Hydra doesn’t like leaks,” Sitwell warned from the backseat.

”Then why don’t you stick a cork in it,” Sam retorted, glancing in the rearview mirror.

”Insight’s launching in sixteen hours,” Natasha chimed in. “We’re cutting it a little bit close here.”

”I know,” Bucky said, glancing back at Sitwell. “We’ll use him to bypass the DNA scans-- he’s got high enough clearance to get us where we need to go.”

”What?” Sitwell squawked. “Are you crazy? That is a terrible, terrible--”

Something heavy landed on the roof of the car, cutting Sitwell off and making everyone else jump. Bucky reached for the shield at his feet, but he wasn’t in time to stop someone smashing through the rear passenger window and ripping Sitwell out of the car, tossing him into oncoming traffic. Natasha leaped forward, shoving Bucky’s head out of the way right before a bullet would have gone through it, and she did the same to Sam. Sam threw the car in park, applying the emergency brake, and whoever was on the roof was flung off as the brakes screeched in protest.

Bucky stared in horror at the same man who’d killed Fury and caught his shield-- the Winter Soldier. The three in the car were so focused on the man in front of them that they never saw the armored vehicle come up from behind them; it rammed into their car, sending them jolting forward, and then continued to drive them forward, straight to the Winter Soldier, who jumped up and landed on the hood once more. Bucky couldn’t do anything but watch as the metal arm came crashing through the windshield, ripping the steering wheel out of Sam’s hands and out of the window.

”Shit!” Sam shouted, looking up. Without the steering, the car swerved wildly-- the armored vehicle ramming into it didn’t help either. Eventually, the car went up a k-rail and flipped, and Bucky grabbed his shield, wedged it against the door, grabbed Natasha and Sam, and threw his whole weight against it, knocking the door out of its frame and using it as a sled so that they weren’t crushed as the car rolled.

Bucky lost his grip on Sam, who rolled along the pavement, but he and Natasha skidded down the freeway before coming to a halt. Natasha ran for cover as the armored vehicle stopped in front of them, and Bucky held up his shield as the Winter Soldier took what looked like a grenade launcher and fired a round at him; the impact and explosion sent Steve flying backwards, off of the bridge and through the windshield of a passenger bus, making it run a red light and into oncoming traffic.

Bucky was briefly knocked unconscious, and when he came to, people were scrambling out of the wrecked bus. There was the sound of automatic gunfire, and Bucky swore, sprinting out of the bus and grabbing his shield which had landed close by, thank God. He ducked behind it, taking a moment to remember the gunmen’s positions, and then adjusted himself, using the bullets ricocheting from the shield to take out two of the four men-- the third, the one with the biggest gun, Bucky charged, keeping the shield in front of him and briefly praising whatever higher power there was that no one ever thought to shoot for his legs. He briefly registered the fourth gunman’s choked-off scream, but then he was launching himself over his target, grabbing the man around the throat and slamming him into the roof of the car, following it up with a hit from the shield to make sure the man stayed down. More gunfire came from the bridge, but when Bucky looked up, he saw Sam. “Go; I got this!” Sam called, and Buck nodded before hauling ass down the street after Nat and the Winter Soldier.

He found them a little ways down the road from the bridge-- the Soldier had already nailed Nat once, and was ready to do it again. Without thinking, Bucky charged, intending to tackle the Winter Soldier, but the man saw it coming-- he turned and lashed out with the metal arm, and Bucky barely had enough time to bring the shield up to protect himself, the vibranium ringing as the metal made contact hard enough to make Bucky’s whole forearm sting. Bucky fought furiously, but he was on the defensive through the entire fight, losing his shield completely about halfway through and being forced to use every trick he knew not to get a knife in his ribs.

Eventually Bucky managed to send the Winter Soldier flying far enough away that he could grab his shield and turn to face him-- but what he saw almost made him drop the shield.

When Bucky had thrown the Winter Soldier, he must have also torn off the muzzle, because now the assassin’s entire face was revealed-- it was a face that Bucky had last seen falling through snow, and then only in his dreams.

”Steve?” he asked, not daring to believe what his eyes were telling him.

The Solder-- Steve?-- cocked a pistol and aimed it straight at Bucky’s chest.

“Who the hell is Steve?”


	6. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo! Okay, so here's where things divert MAJORLY from canon, haha. Tell me what you think in comments, please; comments are love, and I love hearing people's feedback and CONSTRUCTIVE criticism.

He’d been taken to a vault-- a refurbished bank vault, if he had to guess-- for repairs and debriefing. Drago, however, wasn’t truly paying attention to his surroundings at the moment. He was still reliving the moment on the highway, when his muzzle had been torn off and his face revealed. The moment when his target’s mouth had dropped open before forming a single word-- _”Steve?”_ \-- a word that was filled with emotions that Drago had only ever heard from those he was about to kill, those who had lost everything and had no other option but to die. It was a name Drago couldn’t remember being called before, so why, then, did it resonate so much with him? Why did it make him _remember?_

The memory machine had never truly worked on Drago, but he was not stupid; he knew how to bury the memories that remained. Whirling around and around until he vomited, speeding through icy air with the same sick sensation in his stomach, performing for a large crowd-- that last one, perhaps the most familiar. After all, that was all that Drago did now. He performed, did he not? He killed, he followed orders-- he followed a _script_. Drago was an actor, a pawn, to be moved at the director’s discretion, and he was tired of it. He wanted answers, wanted _all_ of his memories back.

To get them, he was going to have to go off-script, but he would need to do it at the right time, or else things would follow another script, one filled with instruments and pain.

That script, Drago would rather not live through yet again.

\------------

The timing was the trickiest part; Drago would have to act precisely if he wanted to escape before Pierce and Rumlow showed up-- once they did, it would be game over; there was a phrase that would make Drago completely compliant that only they knew. He would become all but catatonic, unable to resist. He could not allow that to happen, not if he wanted to get answers from the man on the bridge. 

He stayed quiet and compliant, despite the shreds of what he thought were memories swirling through his mind, connecting and snapping painfully into place. There was a scientist working on his arm, and Drago needed that arm in good working order, or else he wouldn't last very long; he didn't know how to repair it himself, not after the damage that redheaded woman's electric had done to it. Eventually, the man sat back, satisfied, and began disconnecting a few of the wires. "We'll need to wipe him again soon; he's been out of cryofreeze for almost as long as he can last," the scientist said to one of his assistants, who nodded and made a note on the flat tablet she carried.

Drago clenched his jaw: If he was wiped now, or before he could escape, then it would waste time. Time he didn't have. Still, he let his handlers finish unhooking him from the wires, and took the equipment and clothing handed to him docilely, dressing and arming himself in the usual way.

Once he had all of his weapons and armor back on, then and only then did he deviate from his usual behavior. He lunged for the closest body-- the scientist; it was almost a pity, Drago had almost liked the man who was about to become a modified shield-- pulling it in close and knocking the person out with a swift hit to the temple. By that time, the guards had reacted, drawing their weapons, and Drago responded in kind.

When everyone but Drago was down, the soldier gathered his weapons, wiping the blades of the knives on an assistant’s already-bloodstained shirt and rifling through the guards' pockets for anything valuable-- he found some money, more ammunition(which he stowed on his own person), and some communication devices, which he gathered, crushed, and laid on the chair that he'd recently vacated. Then, Drago made his way out through the back entrance, emerging onto the streets of the city-- Washington, D.C., if he remembered correctly.

************

************

The STRIKE team had shown up to take them into custody, and now Bucky, Sam, and Nat were sitting in the back of an armored van, traveling only God knew where. Bucky’s mind was still short-circuiting, still trying to reboot after having the ground ripped from beneath his feet. Steve was alive-- but why hadn’t they found him? No effort had been spared in searching for Captain America’s body. The only conclusion Bucky could come to was that the whole mission, capturing Zola, had been a setup from the start-- someone was going to fall from that train, and Zola’s men would be waiting to pick up whoever it would be. And Zola… He must have planned on defecting to the SSR anyway, to restart Hydra there if and when Schmidt was defeated.

Eventually, Bucky found his voice. “It was Steve,” he said, toneless. “It was Steve, and he-- he looked at me like he didn’t know me.” _That_ was what was killing Bucky-- Steve had lost an arm, but what the hell else had he gone through, that he wouldn’t remember _Bucky_?

”How is that possible?” Sam asked. “It was over seventy years ago.”

”Erskine’s serum must have been better than anyone thought,” Bucky answered. “It changed a lot of things, made Steve… better, all of him. Must have boosted his metabolism or something, I don’t know.”

”It’s not your fault for not finding him, James,” Nat said, her voice weary.

”Feels like it is,” Bucky answered. “Christ, I always had his back. I was supposed to protect him. And he--” Bucky couldn’t continue, his throat clogging with guilt.

The back of the van was silent for a moment before Sam broke it. “We need a doctor,” he said, looking to one of the guards. “She’s bleeding bad; we don’t get pressure on that wound and she’ll bleed out right here in the truck.”

The guard Sam had addressed leaned forward, electric baton raised threateningly, but then they attacked the other guard, taking them out quickly. The guard removed their helmet, revealing Agent Hill. “Gah,” she groaned, rubbing at the back of her head. “That thing was squeezing my brain.” She looked Sam over, and then turned to Bucky. “Who’s this guy?”

************

Hill got them out of the truck and to another van, and then drove them out of the city. They stopped outside of an abandoned dam, and Bucky helped Nat out of the van as they made their way to a door in the side of the dam. A man came jogging towards them, and Hill called out, “GSW; she’s lost at least a pint.”

”Maybe two,” Sam added.

”Let me take her,” the man-- doctor, apparently-- ordered, but Hill kept walking.

”She’ll want to see him first.”

Bucky and Natasha exchanged glances-- ‘him’?

’Him’ turned out to be Nick Fury. The supposed-to-be-dead man raised his head and gave them a flat look. “It’s about damn time.” Bucky and Natasha stepped forward, Bucky helping Nat into a chair so that the doctor could start working on her while Fury listed off his injuries. “Lacerated spinal column, cracked sternum, shattered collarbone, perforated liver, and one hell of a headache.”

”Don’t forget your collapsed lung,” the doctor added.

Fury rolled his eye. “Oh yeah, let’s not forget that. But otherwise, I’m good.”

”They cut you open,” Nat said, her voice revealing just how betrayed she felt. “Your heart stopped.”

Fury’s expression softened as he looked at Natasha. “Tetrodotoxin B,” he explained. “Slows the pulse to one beat a minute. Banner designed it, but it didn’t work too well for him. We found another use for it.”

Bucky spoke for the first time; this wasn’t even all that surprising next to Steve’s return from the dead. Next Schmidt would be falling out of the sky. “Why all the secrecy?” he demanded. “Why not just tell us you weren’t dead?”

”Any attempt on the Director’s life had to look successful,” Hill explained.

”Yeah. I get that. What I don’t get is why Nat and I weren’t told-- you gave me that fuckin’ USB drive, and Nat’s your most loyal agent. You couldn’t trust us?”

”Hydra could have gotten to anyone, even you two,” Fury answered. “I had to be absolutely certain.”

************

Later that evening, Bucky, Nat, Sam, Hill, and Fury gathered around a table to discuss their next steps. Fury picked up a picture of Pierce, and sighed to himself. “This man declined a _Nobel Peace Prize,_ ” he said, disgusted. “Said that peace wasn’t an achievement, it was a responsibility.” He tossed the picture aside, straightening. “It’s shit like this that gives me trust issues.”

”We have to stop the launch,” Natasha cut in, her voice firm. There was a tension in her shoulders that wasn’t usually there, and Bucky could only attribute it to her still being upset over Fury’s silence about the truth, even if she understood his reasoning.

”I don’t think the Council’s accepting my calls anymore,” Fury snorted; he opened the case next to him, revealing three data chips.

”What’re those?” Sam asked, nodding to the case.

”Once the helicarriers reach three thousand feet, they’ll triangulate with Insight satellites, becoming fully weaponized,” Hill explained.

”We need to breach those carriers,” Fury continued, “and replace their targeting blades with our own.”

”One or two won’t cut it,” Hill added. “We need to link all three carriers for this to work; if even one of those ships remains operational… A lot of people are going to die.”

”We have to assume that everyone aboard those carriers is Hydra. We need to get past them, insert these server blades, and maybe, just maybe, we can salvage what’s left--”

”No,” Bucky cut in, his voice steely. “We’re not going to salvage anything. Hydra is going down, and SHIELD’s going down with it-- we’re not leaving anything behind, we’re going to pull this out by the roots.”

”SHIELD had nothing to do with this,” Fury protested, and Bucky scoffed.

”Hydra grew _inside_ of SHIELD-- they’re the same damn thing now. You gave me this mission, Nick, and this is how I’m going to finish it. Everything goes.”

Fury glanced away, and then said, “We didn’t know about Rogers, Barnes.”

Bucky bared his teeth. “Even if you did, you wouldn’t have said anything, would you? You’d have just ‘compartmentalized’ that, too. That doesn’t change the fact that I’m going to finish what we started in the War-- I’m going to raze Hydra to the ground, and take everything associated with them down.”

”He’s right,” Hill spoke up. “It all needs to go; SHIELD is too compromised as it is.”

Fury glanced around, but Natasha just sat back in her chair with a raised eyebrow, and Sam raised one hand as if to ward off Fury’s accusing look. “Don’t look at me, man-- I do what he does, just slower and with less cussing.”

Fury huffed a humorless laugh, and then looked back to Bucky. “Well, looks like you’re giving the orders now, _Captain._ ”

************

The next morning dawned, misty and overcast; Sam found Bucky on the top of the dam, hands clasped as he leaned against the railing. “Hey,” Sam called, and Bucky glanced to him.

”Hey yourself,” he said, turning back to look over the river. A memory came to him-- the day of Sarah Rogers’s funeral had been like this. Bucky had followed Steve back to the apartment that he’d shared with his mother; without her income, he would have move soon. That was the day Bucky invited Steve to move in with him; three months later, they became lovers. They got away with a lot of things other men might not have; everyone had just said, “Oh, it’s those Rogers and Barnes kids; they grew up together, they’re closer than brothers.”

Sam’s voice pulled him out of the past. “He’s gonna be there, you know.”

Bucky sighed, straightening. “I know.”

Sam seemed to be picking his words carefully. “Look, whoever he used to be, and the guy he is now-- I don’t think he’s the kind you save. He’s the kind you stop.”

Bucky shook his head. “I can’t do that,” he said, not even bothering to hide it. “Not to Steve. I spent pretty much my whole life up to the War-- and a good chunk of that, too-- saving Steve’s scrawny little ass. I’m not going to be the one to end him.”

”He might not give you a choice,” Sam warned. “You said it yourself-- he doesn’t know you.”

The remnants of a half-thought plan solidified in Bucky’s mind, and he turned to Sam. “He will,” he said determinedly. “Gear up, it’s time.” He started walking away, only looking back when Sam called after him, asking where he was going, to say, “You’re gonna fight a war, you need a uniform.”

************

Slipping into the uniform he’d used while sniping with the Howling Commandos felt strange, after more than two years of donning the Captain America uniform-- but that wasn’t how Steve would remember Bucky. Steve would remember Bucky as the guy who’d been watching his six during missions, not as the man in a uniform and shield. Bucky was still going to take the shield with him, but he had plans for that.

************

************

Drago had stowed away on one of the helicarriers-- he knew that the man’s involvement in this mission had been what had made him a target worth sending the Winter Soldier after, and something told him that that man would not give up just because his life had been threatened. Something told him it had been threatened before, and he had still kept fighting.

As he waited on the deck of one helicarrier, more memories came to the surface; Drago let them come. It was slightly less painful that way, but he fought them once he caught sight of the man with the mechanical wings-- he was trying to fight his way into the underbelly of another helicarrier, and Drago reasoned that that was their goal.

He quickly made his way down to the one on his carrier, positioning himself by the access control panel. He didn’t know how long he waited there, but it mattered not-- he was patient.

Eventually, he heard footsteps approaching, and straightened, watching the door intently. It slid back to reveal the man from the bridge-- but he was wearing some kind of uniform, a uniform that looked--

 _A muffled gunshot and choked groan came from above his head, and he looked back and over his shoulder to see a man--_ the _man-- clearing a spent cartridge and reloading. Drago saluted the other man, who nodded before adjusting his aim and firing off another round._

Drago blinked, and the memory faded, leaving the man standing in front of him once again. “Who are you?” Drago demanded, his voice harsh, barely concealing the desperate anger he felt. _Why couldn’t he remember_?

The man held up his hands, a shield attached to one arm, and Drago felt off-balance; that shield shouldn’t be on that man’s arms, that man was meant to wield a rifle, not a shield. Drago was distracted enough that he almost missed the man answering his question. “I am James Buchanan Barnes-- you called me Bucky.”

”I know you-- knew you,” Drago said slowly, and the man nodded.

”We were best friends,” he said, and Drago _felt_ the truth in his words-- but he also knew that something was missing. Drago studied the man in front of him intently, but then the man was speaking again. “Please, Steve-- I will tell you everything I know, I swear, but I need to get to that panel. Please let me through.”

Drago hesitated, every last piece of training in him saying not to trust the man-- James-- Bucky?-- in front of him, that he should kill the brunet, that he should have done it already. But Drago had sidestepped orders before, and he had been out of cryofreeze and gone long enough since his last wipe that he knew he could fight the training. He took a slow step to the side, moving out of the other man’s way.

Surprise flickered across his face, but then the brunet was moving forward, reaching for the panel, and Drago only watched, ignoring the small voice in the back of his mind that was screaming at him, telling him that disobeying orders never worked. He stood rigidly in place while the man worked, only moving when he stepped back, speaking into some communication device. “Charlie lock.” The man glanced to Drago, who only tilted his head. “Are you coming with me?” the man asked after a long silence.

Drago thought about it-- he could go off on his own; he knew how to survive, how to steal, and he could always find the man again, but--

But Drago knew this man, and this man knew him. He nodded, and watched as a grin broke over the other man’s face. “Come on, then.”

************

The brunet-- _Bucky_ , Drago reminded himself-- lead them to the roof of the helicarrier, where a man was waiting with a helicopter. Drago recognized him as the man with the wings, and he paused, hand twitching towards one of his firearms. The man obviously recognized him as well, shouting for Bucky to get out of the way-- but Bucky stepped in front of Drago, hands held up protectively. “Sam, stop,” he said firmly. “This is Steve-- he didn’t fight me, he let me pass.”

The other man hesitated, clearly not convinced, and Drago did nothing but stare at him impassively. After a moment, he nodded. “He makes one wrong move, and I’m throwing him out of the chopper,” he threatened, but neither Drago nor Bucky acknowledged it as they climbed in.

It was a short flight to the roof of the nearby building, and Drago looked over his shoulder as he climbed out of the helicopter; behind them, the helicarriers were destroying themselves. Turning his focus back to the the front, he stayed a step behind Sam and Bucky as they led the way through a door and a short hall, to a room where several people were watching a woman-- who Drago recognized as his other target-- type away on a keyboard. Two men, both recognizable, were standing in front of the display, a scanner reading their retinas. Pierce pulled away, a disgruntled expression on his face which turned to shock when he saw Drago docilely following the other men into the room.

”What the hell?” he demanded. “Asset, you have your targets-- why haven’t you eliminated them?”

Drago walked over to the man, and pulled a gun. “I know him,” he said calmly, raising the gun. Pierce’s eyes widened, and he opened his mouth, probably to usher the trigger phrase, and Drago fired one round, the bullet going straight between his eyes. The Winter Soldier watched the corpse drop to the ground as he holstered his weapon and then turned to face the rest of the room; the man he had thought he’d killed-- Nicholas Fury-- and the woman who’d been next on his list had both pulled guns on him, and he merely raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. Bucky moved forward, shock and caution on his features. “Steve, step away from the body, please,” he said quietly, and Drago tilted his head, considering. His mind automatically calculated how best to disarm and/or kill everyone in the room-- it wouldn’t be too hard, he supposed-- but in the end he complied with Bucky’s suggestion, moving away from the body on the ground and towards Bucky, settling in just behind and to his left, not quite in the other man’s blindspot.

Everyone was still clearly uneasy with Drago’s presence, but he ignored them. The redhaired woman continued working the keyboard, glancing to Drago every few seconds, but the Soldier did not move-- not until the door at the other end of the room was suddenly flung open, and Rumlow charged in. Drago drew his weapon again, but he wasn’t fast enough-- Rumlow shouted the trigger phrase, and Drago collapsed.

************

He came to with a stinging cheek, and reacted instinctively, grabbing his assailant and rolling them, pulling a knife as he did so and preparing to bury it in the attacker’s throat-- he stopped, however, when he realized who was now beneath him: Bucky. Drago didn’t move, however, glancing around-- in the corner, he could see Rumlow’s body, and everyone else was watching them warily. Drago had more than a few guns trained on him, and he glanced back down to Bucky, who was watching him with wide eyes. Drago frowned-- this man should never look to him in fear, he thought-- and slowly put the knife away, telegraphing his every move clearly as he climbed off of Bucky and to his feet. He didn’t offer the other man a hand up, but that was only because he thought that it might be seen as an attempt at a trick. Only when Bucky was standing did anyone speak. “What happened?” Bucky demanded, stepping towards Drago and shrugging off Sam’s warning hand. “You just dropped like a fuckin’ stone.”

”Rumlow knew a phrase that would stop me,” Drago explained calmly. “Pierce did as well. Both are dead now.”

”A phrase?” Bucky repeated.

The redhead answered. “The KGB did experiments with that-- they never stuck, though.”

Drago looked at her curiously; the word “KGB” seemed familiar, but he couldn’t place it. “Yes. But I was Zola’s. Zola and another man-- scientist-- trained me.”

”Steve,” Bucky said gently, and it took a moment for Drago to remember that that was supposedly his name. “No one here heard him clearly-- we do not know what he said. You are safe with us.”

Drago glanced around; while he didn’t believe that he was _safe_ with everyone here, he did believe Bucky when he said that no one knew what Rumlow had uttered. He nodded once, jerkily, and then stood in that same spot, waiting, as everyone else completed their intended actions.

************

************

Bucky approached Steve carefully as Natasha worked to finish dumping all of the files from both SHIELD and Hydra onto the Internet. “Hey,” he said quietly, standing next to the Winter Soldier. Steve glanced at him, but didn’t speak, and Bucky tried not to let that get to him; this wasn’t going to be easy, and Steve wasn’t just going to remember everything right away, he knew that. They stood in silence until Natasha was finished, and then one of the World Council members-- the Indian one-- spoke up.

”Am I correct in assuming that is the Winter Soldier?” he asked, gesturing to Steve.

”Yes,” Fury answered. “Formerly known as Captain Steven Grant Rogers, the first Captain America. He was captured shortly after he went missing in action.”

”He is a criminal, and has committed many crimes against many countries,” another council member argued. “He must be tried.”

”Are you kidding me?” Bucky demanded. “Did you not hear that whole bit about him being _brainwashed_ and _trained_ like some dog? He can’t be held accountable for those kills-- no more than I can be held accountable for the Hydra agents I killed in the war, or any soldier can be held accountable for _any_ life they take.”

”So you suggest that we simply let him go free?”

”No. Let him stay with me, and Sam and Nat-- we can keep an eye on him. Stark invited me and the other Avengers to live with him in that fancy new tower of his; if I ask, I’m sure he’ll let Steve come with us, and that place is the most heavily fortified and defended place on the planet. Has to be, to stand up to superhumans on a regular basis, not to mention Stark’s experiments. Let Steve stay with us there, and we can work on helping him recover.”

Everyone exchanged glances before looking to Fury. “What do you think?” the first council member asked.

Fury appeared to think it over, and Bucky held his breath, letting it out in a whoosh when Fury answered, “If Stark agrees to it, then I see no problem. Agent Romanoff is… uniquely experienced with alternative training techniques, and Wilson, if he chooses to go, has experience helping veterans. And Captain Barnes knows Rogers as no one else does. There are worse things we could do to Rogers, like put him on trial for crimes he committed while in the control of a Nazi organization.”

The council members didn’t seem too impressed with Fury’s decision, but they respected it. Bucky contacted Stark on the phone Natasha lent him, outlining the situation and gaining Stark’s approval for Steve to come to the Tower with them; Sam agreed to come, as well.

For the first time in a long time, the future looked promising.


End file.
